Return Us The Children
by French Pony
Summary: With the destruction of the Ring and the conquest of Dol Guldur, peace has come to Mirkwood at last. But that peace comes at a steep price for the King, his son, and the folk of the settlement.
1. Those Who Weep And Mourn

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of J. R. R. Tolkien, nor any of the various dramatic incarnations thereof. No profit is being made from this work.

**Foreword**

Greetings! Welcome to this story. It is a sequel of sorts to "A Charge To Keep" and "Coming Home," and it is also something of a bridge between that and stories set later on in the Fourth Age. I had a set of characters who made a significant transition in their lives, and this story is an attempt to show how they came to make this transition.

It is set over the autumn and winter from 3019 to 3020. This is a period of recovery for Middle-earth. Sauron has been defeated, and the King has returned to Gondor, but the Third Age has not yet ended. Lingering effects of the Shadow and the War still remain.

Enjoy the story, and I will meet you at the end.

**1. Those Who Weep And Mourn**

A terrible scream echoed down the corridor and tore Thranduil from his sleep. Even before he was fully aware, he was rushing to Legolas's chamber. Legolas cried out as he twisted and squirmed, fighting desperately against an enemy only he could see. Thranduil sat down on the edge of the bed and scooped his grown son into his arms.

"Legolas," he said, "you are dreaming. You are safe, mouse, there is nothing to fear."

Legolas's body stiffened in Thranduil's arms, and then went limp. He blinked, and managed to focus on his father's face.

"Ada. . . " he choked out. Then he hid his face in Thranduil's chest. Thranduil held Legolas tightly as he took great gasping breaths that were not quite sobs. After a while, Legolas grew calm enough to speak.

"I dreamed of the sea again, Ada," he said quietly. "It frightened me."

Thranduil's heart seized, and he tightened his embrace. "What did you dream?"

"I do not remember, exactly," Legolas said. "I heard the gulls crying all around me. And I was drowning, I remember that. There was no land in sight. I know I can swim, Ada, but this was different. The sea was pulling at me, it would not let me go. I was terrified of it. I tried to call for help -- I screamed and screamed. . . " A shudder ran through his body.

"Help has arrived," Thranduil said. "You are in your own bed, and I am here, and you are safe." He held Legolas for a little while, until Legolas's breathing slowed and his body relaxed.

"Do you think that you can go back to sleep now?" Thranduil asked. Half-asleep already, Legolas nodded. Thranduil laid him back on the pillow and tucked the blankets more closely around him. He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Legolas's hair until Legolas was fast asleep. Thranduil remained where he was for a while, in case the nightmare should return. Though his body remained still, his heart shook with grief and rage at what had happened to his son.

Legolas had returned from the War whole in body, and Thranduil had been overjoyed. For the first few days, all had been well. Legolas had gone to visit those of his friends who had survived the final battle under the trees, and he had mourned those who had not. Thranduil savored the joys of having Legolas join him for meals once more, and was happy simply knowing that his son was somewhere in the settlement during the day. But then the nightmares had begun. Not every night, but still far too often for Thranduil's liking, Legolas would scream and cry in his sleep, as the memories of things he had seen on his long journey assaulted his mind.

Legolas had not yet shared all of his dreams with his father, but Thranduil knew many of the details. There had been a Balrog, and Mithrandir had fallen, apparently to his death. There had been numerous battles, not just with Orcs, but with the larger, more vicious Uruk-hai as well. And then there was the sea.

The sea haunted Legolas's nights often, and it appeared to provoke the worst of his dreams. Even now, it tried to force its way back into Legolas's thoughts, and he twitched and moaned a little in his sleep. Thranduil laid a warm hand on his son's forehead and sang softly, pushing Legolas deeper into sleep, beyond the reach of dreams. When he was reasonably certain that Legolas would not wake easily until morning, he slumped forward and buried his face in his hands.

Thranduil knew all too well the damage that war inflicted upon the hearts of those who fought. He had lived through the nightmares and cold sweats after the final destruction of Doriath, again after the War of Wrath, and then, most terrifying of all, following Oropher's death at Dagorlad. That battle and the following seven years of war had wounded him sorely, so that it had taken many years before he was able to recover. He suspected that he had never fully recovered. From the first time he held his newborn son in his arms, Thranduil had wanted nothing more than to spare Legolas the pain of losing family and the horrors of war. Now, it seemed that he had failed on both counts.

He sat on the edge of Legolas's bed, brooding, for a while. Then he decided that he was too weary to concentrate on his personal regrets. The darkest hours of the night had never brought him good counsel. Thranduil leaned over and kissed Legolas, then rose and returned to his own bed.

Legolas was quiet and subdued when he appeared for breakfast the next morning, though Thranduil suspected that he remembered little of his dreams the night before. Thranduil placed baked chestnuts and stewed mushrooms and onions on Legolas's plate and was relieved to see him smile. Silently, he thanked the Valar that Legolas was still able to find pleasure in such a simple thing as a good meal.

"I missed this," Legolas said through a mouthful of chestnuts. "I have dined in the homes of the great Lords of our time, but it was never as good as it is here."

"Though perhaps more abundant," Thranduil said.

Legolas nodded. "Especially when the Hobbits were present. I have never seen anyone who enjoyed meals as much as a Hobbit."

Thranduil's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I cannot imagine how Bilbo Baggins ever survived the time he spent with us," he said. "He must have found our pantries a great disappointment, though that year was hardly our leanest. We were able to give aid to the Men of Lake Town then."

"Bilbo survived, and did rather well for himself," Legolas said happily. "Once more, he sends his greetings to you from Imladris. Elrond told me that, when he arrived in Minas Tirith with Arwen and the rest of his household for the wedding."

"Bilbo did not come as well?"

Legolas shook his head. "He is very old, Ada. Elrond said that he had declined much since I saw him in Imladris. He is too old to travel now, and Elrond thinks he has but one journey left in him."

"That is a shame," Thranduil said. "I would have liked to host him properly at least once. But that is the way of mortals, I suppose." He took another bite of mushrooms and onions. "Do you have plans for the day, Legolas?"

"Neldorín and Arasiel invited me to go foraging with them," Legolas replied. "I have not yet had a chance for a proper visit with them, and I do want to know what happened to Neldorín after we parted at the house of Grimbeorn."

"Go with them, then," Thranduil said. "But you should try to return before sundown. Heledir's mother sent a message yesterday evening saying that she would like to see you."

Legolas nodded soberly. He had played with Heledir from their earliest childhood, and the memory of his friend's death in an Orc attack the previous summer still stung his heart. That, it seemed, had only been the first skirmish in the great War. Both Legolas and Thranduil had lost many other dear friends, but Heledir had been one of the first. "I will go see her before sundown," Legolas said.

"Good. I think she has a gift for you."

Legolas smiled, but Thranduil could still see the sorrow that lingered in his eyes. They both concentrated on their food, on the reminder that they had survived and must look to the future rather than let themselves be consumed by the past.

After breakfast, Thranduil went to his council chambers. Luindil, his seneschal, was waiting for him, along with Inglor, the captain of the guard. They both bowed when Thranduil entered, and he acknowledged with a polite nod.

"Good morning," he said. "Please, be seated. We have things to discuss this morning." Luindil and Inglor sat down at the large table while Thranduil retrieved some letters from the document cupboard. He spread the first one out on the table. "This is from Thorin III, the new Lord of Erebor. He sends his deepest thanks for the gifts of fur and leather that we sent in celebration of shared survival."

"That was polite of him," Inglor said. Luindil merely nodded, the expression on his face unreadable. Thranduil glanced at him and took a deep breath.

"Thorin also writes that he wishes to send an embassy here to Eryn Lasgalen," he went on. "He does not say whether he wishes this embassy to be permanent, but I would imagine that neither of our folk would especially care for that. However, he does wish to send a representative of his folk to discuss the future of our corner of the world."

There was silence around the table for a moment. Inglor blinked as he considered the possibilities of such a visit. Luindil had turned a shade paler than usual. Thranduil glanced at him with veiled concern, for he was well aware of his seneschal's feelings about Dwarves. Luindil bowed his head, then looked up sharply.

"I think we should receive such an embassy," he said. Both Thranduil and Inglor stared at him in surprise.

"I am intrigued to hear you say that," Inglor said. "I thought that you did not like Dwarves."

"I do not," Luindil said. "But that does not change the fact that there is a colony of them living not far away. We have all been through the same war together, and now we must look to the future. I do not see how we can avoid dealing with them, so I would rather that such an encounter take place here, in our own familiar territory."

"You are brave to say such a thing, my friend," Thranduil said.

Luindil gave a mischievous smile. "Perhaps not as brave as you think, King Thranduil," he replied. "I did not say that I had any intentions of meeting with this embassy personally. I hear that Legolas has become quite adept at befriending Dwarves. I think we should make good use of his talents."

Thranduil laughed out loud at that. "You are correct, and I should not have expected any less of you, Luindil. I will speak to Legolas about it when he returns home this evening. That is one burden that I would be glad to have off my mind. Now, let us proceed with other business. I would like to be finished before noon, as I, too, have a visit to pay."

Just past noon, Thranduil carried a covered basket out of the delvings and took to the trees, using the elegant, winding stair that Celeborn's aides had helped to carve into an old elm tree. Most of the Elves in the settlement now lived in small houses constructed among the branches of those large, sturdy trees that had survived the great fire. Swaying walkways connected the houses to each other, so that people could visit easily. Thranduil found that he enjoyed walking so high up in the trees, surrounded by the brilliant autumn colors and rich smell of the leaves. He paused just before he reached his destination to breathe in the crisp, cool air, blessedly free of any taint of shadow. Then he turned and knocked on the door of one of the small tree houses.

The door opened almost immediately, and the lady within smiled. "My Lord," she said, "welcome. I am glad you have come today."

Thranduil bowed politely. "Greetings, Mistress Saelind," he said. "I had not expected to find you here. Is everything well with your mother?"

Saelind's face clouded. "I do not know," she said. "Do come in. She had one of her bad nights last night, and I came to stay with her. She mentioned that she was expecting you today, and I think she will be pleased to see you." Saelind ushered Thranduil inside. They went to the window, where Saelind's mother, Doronrîn, sat idly, gazing out at the rustling branches of the tree.

"Mother," Saelind said gently, "the King is here to see you."

Slowly, Doronrîn turned around. When she saw Thranduil, she arranged her face into a smile, but not soon enough to hide the raw distress in her eyes. Thranduil set the basket down on the table, sat in the chair that Saelind brought him, and clasped Doronrîn's hands in his. "Greetings, Doronrîn," he said. "I have brought lunch. Do you feel that you can eat with me?"

Doronrîn glanced at the basket, then dropped her gaze to her lap. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clutching Thranduil's hands tightly. When she looked up, her gaze was clearer than it had been before. "Yes," she said. "I believe that I could manage a little food."

Saelind looked relieved. "I hoped you would," she said. "You must be hungry, for you could not eat breakfast." She turned and went to the door, then looked back. "I am going home for a little while," she said. "If you have need of me, I will return." She slipped out.

Doronrîn snorted, and a little of her accustomed spark flared back in her eyes. "I suppose that this is turnabout for the times that I hovered over Saelind and Beleghir when they were children."

"You cared for them when they needed you, and now they seek to care for their mother in her time of need," Thranduil said. "That is only natural."

Doronrîn nodded, and tears suddenly filled her eyes. "I dreamed of him last night," she said. "And then I woke with a void in my heart that howled and raged, and it could not be filled. I could not bear to look at the breakfast that Saelind prepared. It seemed to mock the true emptiness inside of me."

Thranduil's heart twisted as she spoke. "I understand," he murmured. He had been the one to discover the body of Menellir, Doronrîn's husband, beneath the bodies of the Orcs who had killed him as he fought to defend the settlement. Menellir and Doronrîn had been the first friends he had made upon his arrival with Oropher after the War of Wrath. They had been childhood playmates, and he had watched with joy as their friendship blossomed into love. After Menellir's father had died at Dagorlad, Thranduil had stood in his place at Menellir and Doronrîn's wedding. Much as it had torn his heart to do so, he had not permitted anyone else to break the news of Menellir's death to his wife.

Doronrîn's breath hitched. "Yes," she said, bringing Thranduil back to the present. "You do understand. Saelind and Beleghir are always at my side if I need them, but Saelind's husband still lives. I am grateful for that, of course, but she cannot understand fully what I feel. Luindil visits sometimes -- you must know that -- as does Gilveril. They understand a little more, but neither one of them was married. I am glad when you come to visit. I do not have to tell you where it hurts. You already know."

"I do."

Doronrîn turned away from Thranduil and stared silently out of the window, letting the tears run down her face. Thranduil waited for her, swallowing the lump that rose in his own throat at the thought of his lost Queen.

After a moment, Doronrîn shook herself and turned back to him. She laughed a little as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. "My apologies," she said, her voice shaking. "I should not have done that, especially since you are so kind to visit me as often as you do."

"It is no bother," Thranduil said with a gentle smile. "Weep when you must, Doronrîn, for there is no shame in mourning someone you loved. I would be the last one to fault you for it."

"Thank you."

Thranduil straightened in his chair. "Would you like to take a meal with me now?" he asked. "Galion has prepared chestnut-flour bannocks with a pot of honey and a jar of raspberry preserves. He and Glawariel send their love."

Doronrîn smiled at that. "Yes," she said. "I think I could eat something now. Thank you for sitting with me, my Lord. It eases the pain a little to know that I am not left entirely alone."

"Thank you for coming with us, Legolas," Neldorín said, as they returned to the settlement bearing their full foraging baskets. "I am glad that you found that huckleberry bush. I am fond of them."

Legolas laughed. "You are," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "but I think that it will be hard to convince Faron of that."

Behind them, Neldorín's little son trotted along, keeping up with his mother, Arasiel, and carrying a small basket of his own. He made a face at Legolas. "Huckleberries are nasty," he declared.

Arasiel smiled. "That is your own fault, Faron. I warned you that they were too sour to eat raw."

"But they looked so shiny," Faron said, pouting.

"Not everything that looks shiny is good to eat, Faron," Neldorín said. "When we get home, you may help me stew some of these huckleberries, and we will have them for dinner tonight. I promise you that they will taste better after we have stewed them."

Faron looked dubious. "All right," he said.

Arasiel ruffled his hair. "That is my brave little boy. Legolas, would you stay and eat with us tonight? We have enjoyed your company today."

"I cannot," Legolas said. "I promised to visit Heledir's mother before sundown, and it is nearly sundown now. Perhaps another day."

Neldorín nodded. "I understand. You are always welcome to come foraging with us."

"Thank you."

Legolas climbed into the tree canopy and navigated the walkways until he came to the little house at the edge of the settlement where Heledir's mother lived. She was sitting by her window and saw him approaching. She waved at him and went to open the door.

"Legolas!" she said. "Come in, child." She wrapped him in a fierce embrace, and Legolas was once again startled to notice that he was taller than she was. "Oh, it is good to see you," she said. "It was such a relief when you came home again. I wanted to see you for just a little while, so I could assure myself that I did not dream that feast."

"You did not dream it," Legolas said, looking around at the bare new room. "I survived the War, though I am not sure how. I am glad to see you as well. I do not think I could have. . . " his voice trailed off, and he sat heavily in a chair. "It is strange to see you in this new house," he finished.

Heledir's mother laid a gentle hand on his head. "I am sure it is," she said softly. "It is not the house that you remember playing in. It is not the house where Heledir and my husband lived. I tried to save that house, but it burned before I could douse the flames. I remember that Mistress Innil was screaming at me to run to the river, but I barely heard her."

"But you did go, eventually."

"Yes." Heledir's mother nodded soberly. "Almost at the last possible moment, I made my choice. I suppose this new house suits my needs better. It is in the trees, so I smell them every morning when I wake up. And it is small enough for just one person. I no longer need a house big enough for two or three. . . " She fell silent and dabbed at her eyes. Legolas held her hand and closed his eyes against the memory of that terrible night when the Orcs had attacked and the Elves had lost Gollum. He could still hear Heledir's scream of pain as an Orc broke his arm. Now there was nothing left of Heledir, no trace that he had existed at all, save in memory only.

As if reading his thoughts, Heledir's mother took a deep breath and squeezed Legolas's hand. "Wait here, child," she said, and disappeared into the back room. After a moment, she reappeared with a slightly charred wooden box.

"Just before I fled to the river, I managed to rescue this from the fire," she said. "This is the box where I keep all my treasures. There is something that I have been saving for you."

She opened the box and withdrew a shining, elegantly crafted carving knife in a soft doeskin sheath. She placed it in Legolas's hands. "This belonged to my son," she said. "His father gave it to him, and I thought that he would pass it on to his own children. But that will not happen. . . " She paused to choke back tears. "You were such a good friend to Heledir, Legolas. I thought you should have something to remind you of him. Perhaps you will give it to a child of your own one day."

"Thank you." It was all Legolas could say before his throat closed. Hot tears pricked his eyes, and he put his arms around Heledir's mother. He could feel her body shaking as she wept. He held her tightly and let his own tears come. Together, they stood in the fresh-smelling new house and mourned the one who did not live there.


	2. A Light In Dark Places

**2. A Light In Dark Places**

Several days later, Legolas was outside at the target range reacquiring his skill at shooting in the dappled light of the forest. He had just placed an arrow almost at the center of the small brown target when he heard a deliberate step behind him. He turned to see Inglor standing behind him.

"That was nicely placed," Inglor said.

"Thank you. I fear that I have grown accustomed to shooting on the southern plains, where the light is strong and steady," Legolas said. "The light is not so forgiving here."

"Still, that was a good shot," Inglor said. "Is that the bow you were given in Lothlórien?"

"It is."

Inglor raised his eyebrows. "May I examine it?"

"Of course." Legolas laid the great bow in Inglor's hands. Inglor examined the grain of the wood, the cord wrapped around the grip, and the fine string of braided elf-hair. Legolas gave him an arrow, and Inglor fitted it to the string and tested the draw.

"It is a heavy draw," he said. "This bow was not intended for hunting." He drew, sighted down the range, and then released the arrow. It struck the target just below Legolas's. Inglor nodded appreciatively and handed the bow back to Legolas. "This is a fine weapon. Care for it well, for it will last you many years."

"It has already served me well," Legolas said.

"I am certain of that." Inglor glanced once more down the range, and nodded, as if he had seen something that confirmed a decision in his mind. "I am assigning the border patrol schedule for the winter," he said. "Are you sufficiently recovered from your journey home that I can include you in the roster?"

"I believe so. Are there many Orcs left in the woods now?"

"Some." Inglor shrugged. "And there are still spiders. Dol Guldur may be vanquished, but it will take some time before we have completely cleared the forest of its evil influence. But the woods are not nearly so dangerous as they were. I believe that we will see it return to its former wholesome nature in time."

Legolas brightened at that thought. "I would like that," he said. "I would like to see this forest free of blight and shadow. It must be a sight to see."

Inglor nodded. "You are far too young to remember it as it was," he said. "Even I cannot remember a time when it was completely free of shadow, though it was not as evil when I was a child. It will indeed be a sight to see."

"If I can help to banish the last of the shadow by going on patrol, then I am more than ready to do so."

Inglor smiled. "Good," he said. "Your first rotation will be three days from today. Bring the bow of Galadriel. Perhaps you will have need of it."

Three days later, a small patrol slipped quietly through the trees. Beleghir, Doronrîn's son, led the patrol, for he was a forester who knew this part of the woods intimately. Thônion, Saelind's husband, walked at his side, along with Legolas. Three other warriors, Halog, Dufinnion, and Minardil, brought up the rear. The six Elves moved silently, following Beleghir's hand signals as he directed them deep into the forest.

They had come to a place where the trees were ancient and tough, and had grown twisted together, so that it was difficult for light to penetrate even in the winter. This was a prime breeding ground for spiders, and Beleghir's orders for the day were to locate and destroy any egg clutches he could find.

At the rear of the patrol, Dufinnion suddenly stopped and stiffened, his breath catching just enough to alert the others that he had stopped. "Have you found something?" Beleghir asked in a low voice.

Dufinnion nodded. "There," he murmured. "Through those trees. There is a nest."

Beleghir nodded, then signaled to the others. "Thônion, Halog, Legolas, into the trees. Shoot from above. Dufinnion, you and I will use knives. Minardil, you will keep watch for the arrival of adult spiders. Go."

The Elves dispersed according to Beleghir's orders. Legolas climbed a tree and settled himself comfortably on a branch. Quickly, he located Thônion and Halog in nearby trees and nodded to them. Dufinnion and Beleghir took up places in the brush well clear of the shooting area, and Minardil positioned himself high in a tree. At Beleghir's signal, the patrol began its work.

It was not difficult to shoot the egg clutches down, but it was satisfying. After each volley of arrows from the trees, Dufinnion and Beleghir moved forward and shredded the fallen egg cases, then stepped back out of the way of the next volley of arrows. The Elves worked methodically for a while. They had nearly finished with the nest when Minardil called to them.

"'Ware spiders!"

With that, the forest seemed to come alive with glinting eyes and the clatter of shells. Spiders dropped from the trees, hissing and muttering angrily. The Elves put their backs to the tree trunks and shot with grim accuracy. Legolas shot one spider in the eye, and another just behind the head. The force of that shot was so strong that the arrow sliced the spider's head from its body. Halog gave a low whistle.

"Mighty are the bows of the Galadhrim!"

Legolas nodded and was about to reply when he saw an enormous spider creeping along the branch just above Halog. "Halog, above you!" he cried.

Halog turned and slashed at the spider with his knife just as it was about to strike. Enraged, the spider reared up, and one of its legs knocked Halog from his perch. He fell perhaps a body's length before he managed to seize a branch and break his fall. Deprived of its immediate prey, the spider bore down on Legolas.

Legolas set an arrow to the string and drew. Without warning, a wave of dark terror flooded through his mind. He saw a stone bridge beneath his feet, and a giant beast of flame and shadow moving toward him. His hand on the bowstring opened, and the great bow sang. The monster howled in pain. Legolas dropped his bow and screamed, and found, to his horror, that he could not stop screaming.

Strong hands maneuvered him down to the ground and pressed him against the tree. Thônion's voice was low and steady in his ear. "Legolas! Legolas, calm yourself. It is all right. You killed it."

Thônion knelt in front of Legolas and grasped his head with both hands, forcing Legolas to look at him. Legolas forced himself not to scream, but the effort took all the breath from his body. His lungs burned for an instant, and something knotted painfully in his chest. He gasped for air, breathing in great gulps that tore at his throat and did not ease the burning in his lungs. Black spots danced before his eyes, and his limbs went numb. Beleghir rushed to his side.

Thônion held Legolas still against the tree. Beleghir took off his belt pouch. He dumped its contents out onto the ground and handed it to Thônion. "Use this," he said. Thônion held the pouch over Legolas's nose and mouth and looked him in the eye.

"Breathe with me, Legolas," he commanded. "Slowly, now." He inhaled and exhaled slowly and steadily, and Legolas struggled to match the pattern. Gradually, the knot in his chest loosened, and he could breathe without gasping. Thônion took the pouch away from his face. Legolas wrapped his arms around his body and shivered, suddenly chilled.

The patrol was silent for a few moments. Beleghir sat back on his heels and surveyed the situation. Vaguely, Legolas realized that they had killed all the spiders that had attacked them. That was good. At least he had not been completely useless. Beleghir reached out and briefly clasped his shoulder, a reassuring, compassionate touch, then turned to Thônion. "Take him home," he said quietly. "We will dispose of things here."

Thônion helped Legolas to his feet. Halog retrieved Legolas's bow and collected the long arrows that went with it. He wiped the arrows clean, tucked them in Legolas's quiver and handed the bow back to him. "Thank you for your warning," he said. "You saved me from great harm."

Legolas could do no more than nod in acknowledgement. Thônion put an arm around his shoulders and led him back to the path where they had left their horses.

Luindil was at the stables when a guard came to report that Thônion and Legolas had returned home from the patrol early and alone. Alarmed, Luindil ran to the bridge. Inglor arrived from the target range a moment later. The two horses crossed the bridge at a walk. Both Thônion and Legolas were filthy with black spider blood, and Legolas's head was bowed so that Luindil could not see his face. Dismounting, Thônion looked around for Inglor.

"What happened?" Inglor asked. "Where is the rest of the patrol? Are either of you wounded?"

Thônion gave a crisp bow. "No, my Lord. At least. . . I do not think so. We destroyed a spider nest and killed the spiders guarding it. None of us were injured, precisely, but something happened to Legolas."

Luindil glanced sharply at Legolas, who had dismounted and stood by his horse, still staring at his feet. "What happened to him?"

Thônion blew out a long breath before replying. "I am not certain. He was shooting spiders, and then he began to cry out. Then he started overbreathing. Beleghir and I helped him to regain control of his body, but it was clear that he could not remain in the woods any longer. I do not think he is injured, but he has not spoken since the spiders attacked us."

"You did well to bring him home," Inglor said. "Take him to the infirmary. Luindil, will you fetch the King?"

Luindil nodded and hurried into the delvings.

Thranduil arrived at the infirmary to see Inglor and Thônion waiting outside. They sprang to their feet when they saw him.

"I beg pardon, my Lord," Inglor said. "I believed that Legolas was fit for patrol duty. I would not knowingly expose him to such danger if he were impaired in any way."

"I believe you," Thranduil said. "Legolas believed himself to be fit for duty as well. Last night, he said that he was looking forward to going out and helping to rid the forest of lingering shadow." He glanced at the door and frowned. "Have you heard anything?"

Inglor shook his head. "Not yet."

Thranduil breathed in and out, willing himself to remain calm. Just then, the door opened, and Gilveril, the settlement's young chief healer, emerged. Legolas followed her, a stricken expression on his face.

"There is no injury that caused this," Gilveril said. "I can only guess that the source of the problem lies in his heart rather than his body. I have done what I can, but I cannot heal a wounded heart."

Thranduil nodded. "Thank you, Gilveril," he said. He reached out to Legolas, but Legolas shied away from his touch.

"No!" he cried. "Please, I – I am filthy. Let me return to my chambers and wash the spiders' blood from my body."

Reluctantly, Thranduil let his son go. Legolas walked away and did not look back. Thônion sighed.

"At least he has spoken and can walk on his own," he offered. "That is an improvement."

"I will speak to him later when he is calmer," Thranduil said. "In the meantime, Inglor, please remove him from the duty rosters. After we have determined what caused this attack, we can decide whether or not he is ready to return to patrol duty."

After he had washed and changed his clothes, Legolas sat in his chamber and tried to make sense of what had happened to him. He had been fighting spiders ever since he was old enough to do so, and it had never caused him such panic before. But, of course, that had been before he had walked through the Mines of Moria. He balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and tried not to think about that terrible day when he had seen Durin's Bane and Mithrandir had fallen.

Suddenly, the walls of his chamber were too close and confining. Legolas jumped up and ran down the corridors, not entirely certain of where he wanted to go. Soon, however, he found himself outside the kitchens, and he smiled. The kitchens were always comforting, and he enjoyed being there even if he was no longer little enough to be given interesting scraps to eat. He wandered inside and was pleased to smell something stewing on the hearth.

Galion smiled at him. "Welcome, Legolas," he said. "What brings you here? I thought you were on patrol today."

"I was. We found a spider nest and destroyed it. I – I had to return home early."

Galion accepted this without prying. "I see. Well, since you are here, will you help with one task?" He set a large bunch of parsley on the work table in front of Legolas and handed him a knife. "Please chop this as finely as you can. It will season the stew tonight."

Grateful for a task to keep his hands occupied, Legolas sat down and began to chop the parsley. He gave his full attention to the small, precise motions of the knife and the sharp, clean scent of the leaves. "This smells good," he said.

"I agree," Galion replied. "I love fresh parsley sprinkled over stew, but I have never enjoyed chopping it. It is far more pleasant to make the King's son do that chore for me."

Legolas smiled. "The King's son does not mind. The King's son is glad that he can be useful somewhere."

Galion raised an eyebrow at that. "From what I have heard, you have already been more than useful. I seem to recall that you helped to save the world. That is no small accomplishment."

"I did not save the world. Frodo and Sam did that."

"It was with your assistance that they traveled to where they could do their deeds," Galion countered. "From what I understand of Hobbits, they are not accustomed to undertaking such journeys on their own. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Legolas. You were given a charge, and you fulfilled it well. You have more than proved your worth beyond simply chopping herbs. In time, you will realize this."

"I suppose." Legolas considered the small heap of chopped parsley in front of him. A powerful need suddenly washed through him. "Galion," he asked, "may I have an apple?"

Galion sighed. "Oh, Legolas," he said. "I would like nothing more in the world than to give you an apple. But there are none left. The harvests in Lake Town were poor, and the Men sent us far fewer than usual. I am afraid that we ate most of the apples over the winter while you were gone. And what we did not eat, the Orcs burned."

"Is there not even a core left?"

Galion thought for a moment, then shrugged a little. "There may be one or two apples in a barrel somewhere. I cannot imagine that they would still be good to eat." He vanished into a pantry, and Legolas could hear him rummaging through the supplies. At last, Galion returned, bearing a single, withered fruit.

"This is all I could find," he said. "It is no longer edible. Are you sure you want it?"

Legolas nodded, and took the apple. "Yes, I do. Thank you, Galion."

Galion snorted. "Do not come crying to me when that apple disagrees with you," he said, smiling to take some of the sting from his words.

"Do not worry," Legolas said. "I do not want to eat this apple. I have other plans for it." He tucked it carefully in his belt pouch and left the kitchen.

Some time later, Thranduil decided that Legolas had had enough time to recover from his experiences on the spider patrol. He set his work aside and went to Legolas's chamber. Briefly, he wondered if Legolas had fallen asleep, then he knocked quietly at the door.

"Come in."

Thranduil entered and found Legolas, clean and looking more alert, sitting curled in a chair, contemplating a pot filled with soil sitting on his desk. Legolas rose to his feet when his father entered, but Thranduil gestured for him to return to his chair.

"You may stay where you are. I have merely come to check on you and ensure that you are well."

Legolas bowed his head. "I am well now, Ada. I was not injured. I am sorry that I disrupted the patrol. It will not happen again."

"I do not care about that," Thranduil said. "From what Thônion told me, you did not hinder the mission. I am more concerned about how you are feeling now."

"I am healthy." Legolas glanced away. "I suppose that the worst thing to come of this is that I feel like a fool."

Thranduil bit back the easy comfort of reassuring Legolas that no one else considered him to be a fool, and took a deep breath. "Will you tell me about what happened?" he asked. "What were you thinking about?"

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed in his chair. Thranduil took his hand but said nothing, waiting for Legolas to speak when he was ready.

"I saw the bridge of Khazad-Dûm," Legolas said softly. "And the. . . the Balrog. And I panicked, just as if I were a little child. Just as I did then."

"A Balrog is a force far greater than any Orc or spider, Legolas," Thranduil said. "They are of the same kindred as Sauron himself. It is only natural that such a thing terrified you. I do not know that I would react any differently if I were to confront such a monster."

"Mithrandir confronted it."

"Mithrandir is a wizard, and he is of the same kin. It is a far different thing for a wizard to confront a Balrog than for an Elf, especially an Elf who has lived in this forest all of his life."

"I panicked," Legolas repeated. "And Mithrandir fell."

"But he returned," Thranduil reminded him. "And today, the spider did not injure Halog. You were able to aid him before your memories overcame you."

Legolas took a deep, shuddering breath. "What if I should panic again?" he asked. "Perhaps I will not be so lucky next time, and someone will be hurt. I cannot go on patrol duty like this."

"No," Thranduil agreed. "You cannot. But patrol duty is not such an urgent thing any more. You can take your time to recover fully. One cannot shake off the effects of so great a war in one or two short seasons. We will find something else for you to do in the meantime, for there are so many things that we must mend and make right."

Legolas relaxed a little. "I think I have found something that will help me, Ada."

"Oh? What is that?"

Legolas pointed to the pot on his desk. "Galion found one apple left, too withered to eat. I planted its seeds today. I want to see if I can make something grow again. So many beautiful trees have been destroyed. I want to take care of this one, and perhaps plant more."

Thranduil smiled at him. "That is an excellent idea. I am sure that this seed will flourish under your care. You will help bring life back to the forest. I am proud of you." He squeezed Legolas's hand and received a little smile as a reward. Perhaps, he decided, there was hope that his little mouse would be able to heal himself, in time.


	3. Not Months But Moments

**3. Not Months But Moments**

The next day, Legolas was on his way to Neldorín's house, where the two of them were to spend the day fletching hunting arrows. As he passed the short walkway that led to Beleghir's house, he heard voices within. Hearing them reminded him that he had intended to speak with Beleghir sometime that day. Now seemed to be as good a time as any. Legolas took the short detour and knocked on Beleghir's door.

A lady he did not know opened the door. Legolas was silent for a moment in shock, partially at seeing a stranger in the small settlement, and partially at seeing her at the home of Beleghir, who had never married.

The lady smiled at him. "Oh, greetings," she said. "You are King Thranduil's son, are you not?"

Legolas nodded and bowed to her. "I am Legolas, mistress. But you appear to have the advantage of me."

She laughed merrily. "My name is Tinwen. I remember seeing you briefly in Lothlórien last winter, but we did not speak then. I guess that you have come to see Beleghir?"

"Briefly, yes."

Tinwen turned and called for Beleghir to come to the door. Legolas tried to remember if he had seen Tinwen during the time he had spent in the Golden Wood, but he could not place her. Beleghir's arrival interrupted his thoughts.

"Greetings, Legolas," Beleghir said. "You look much better today. Are you well?"

Legolas blushed a little. "I am feeling better. Thank you. I came to apologize for disrupting the patrol yesterday."

Beleghir smiled and shook his head. "Think nothing of it. We completed our work and had no more incidents. We were worried about you, but nothing more serious than that."

"I will not be on patrol duty for a while, but I was not injured."

"Good. You are safe, and that is what matters." Beleghir draped his arm casually around Tinwen's shoulders. "Would you care to come inside and have tea with us?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow at them. "No, thank you. I am going to Neldorín's. Besides," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, "I do not think it would be quite proper for me to interrupt your private . . . tea time."

Tinwen exploded in scandalized giggles. Beleghir spluttered and fumed, but the enormous grin on his face completely spoiled the effect. Legolas dashed merrily away to Neldorín's house.

"Beleghir and Tinwen?" Neldorín said later, as they sat at the worktable carefully splitting feathers and attaching them to the arrow stocks. "I am pleased, but I cannot say I am surprised. You did not see it, but there has been something between them ever since midsummer. I am glad that they finally acted on it."

"Since midsummer?" Legolas reached for another feather and split it with the knife Heledir's mother had given him. "That is not so long at all. Do you think they are in love?"

Neldorín shrugged. "I do not know. I am sure they do not know either. They met so soon after the War. Beleghir was still mourning Menellir, and he and Saelind and Thônion were taking care of Doronrîn. And most of us had lost our homes. I think that Beleghir and Tinwen are only beginning to get to know each other properly."

"She mentioned having been in Lothlórien during the winter. How did she come to be here?"

"She came at Lord Celeborn's request. He was here in the spring, and he reported that Dol Guldur was no more." Neldorín shuddered at the thought of that evil place. "I was glad to hear it. I do not think I will ever forget riding through the forest around it. Sometimes, I still dream of it. . . " His voice trailed off.

Legolas nodded soberly. "Sauron is gone now, and the Nazgûl with him. I saw it."

"Yes," Neldorín said. "Yes, you did see it. I am glad of it, though we paid dearly for it. The destruction here was almost overwhelming to us. We were quartered in the emergency halls in the delvings, and there was almost nothing left to eat. Lord Celeborn sent companies of the Galadhrim to aid us. They brought _lembas_ and helped us to build new homes. Tinwen was among those companies."

"She has given aid three times, then," Legolas said. "She has given food and shelter, and now she gives friendship, and perhaps love."

Neldorín carefully began to bind fletching onto an arrow. "It is good that she is here, then."

Legolas smiled at that and was about to say something when the shrieks of a small child interrupted. Faron came racing into the house, his face and arms streaked with gray dust. Arasiel followed him, an expression of mingled worry and annoyance on her face. Faron went to Neldorín and held out his grimy arms.

"Ada, up," he said.

Neldorín sat back and regarded his son with a smile. "Hmm. I do not think so. You are filthy, little one. What have you been playing in?"

Faron looked guilty. "Dirt?" he suggested.

Arasiel rolled her eyes. "He wandered off while I was pulling carrots. I found him digging in one of the ash heaps."

"Really." Neldorín turned a stern expression on Faron. "Faron, what did I tell you about playing in those ash heaps? They are dangerous. You do not know what is in that ash. It is not just wood."

Faron thrust out his lower lip and looked at the floor. "Sorry," he said. Then he looked up again. "I did not mean to be naughty, Ada. I thought I saw my big-boy cup."

Neldorín looked stricken, and Arasiel turned to Legolas with a somewhat glazed look in her eye. "Faron had a tin cup that he loved," she explained. "The Orcs attacked us in the middle of the night, and it was all I could do to save Faron and some clothing. There was no time to search for his tin cup."

"There was a fire," Faron told Legolas. "Our old house burned up, so we lived in your house. Now we live in this house. I miss my old house and my big-boy cup."

Arasiel scooped Faron into her arms. "You will not find it among the ash heaps, little one. You are more likely to find Orc bones, and I do not want you playing with those. Come. You are filthy, and we must clean you off." She carried him out of the room.

Legolas sat back in his chair and stared at the little footprints on the floor. Neldorín dropped his head into his hands. "We won," he murmured. "I keep telling myself that, but I do not know that I am convinced of it. Is this really victory? My child cries at night for the home that he lost, and I mourn for my friends who have fallen."

Legolas turned Heledir's knife over in his hands. "I know."

Neldorín turned and gazed out of the window. "I wish that there was a place where Faron could grow up free," he said. "Some place that did not bear the scars of the fire that still haunts his dreams. I wish there was a place where Arasiel and I could start our lives over again and give our child the life he deserves."

Legolas nodded in silent agreement. He had relied on similar dreams to carry him through his long journey. Too many Elves and Men had died for such dreams. Somehow, he had to find a way to make those dreams real.

Thranduil finished writing his response to Thorin of the Lonely Mountain. He had agreed to Thorin's request to send an embassy, but he had asked that nothing be done until after Yule. Autumn was a busy season in Eryn Lasgalen, as the Elves worked hard hunting and foraging to ensure that there would be enough food to last through the winter. There had not been much to eat for the past few winters, and the battle had destroyed much of the Elves' supplies. It had been an uncomfortably lean summer, and it would take more work than usual to fill the storage rooms. But thanks to the Galadhrim, this year the Wood Elves had newly planted gardens to harvest as well. There would be enough to do this autumn without the extra fuss and tension of entertaining a Dwarvish embassy as well. Hospitality would be easier during the winter, and Eryn Lasgalen was not so far from the Lonely Mountain that a determined Dwarf could not travel the distance, even in the snow.

Thranduil signed the letter with a flourish and carefully sanded it. Then he rolled the parchment and sealed it. He would send it by messenger to Lake Town tomorrow with a request that the Men deliver it to Erebor from there. He hoped that Legolas's skills at charming Dwarves extended beyond his one Dwarvish traveling companion. Thranduil was fairly sure that he could manage to be polite and diplomatic, at least, but he was not certain that he could bring himself to be friendly and open. As for Luindil . . . Thranduil sighed. This would be difficult for Luindil, and though Thranduil felt he could trust his seneschal to behave in a manner befitting the court of the Elvenking, he regretted the strain it would place on his oldest friend.

But it seemed that the Elves could not avoid this strain forever. The War had changed many things, and it seemed that the Elves and the Dwarves could no longer afford to ignore each other, as they had done ever since the Dwarves had occupied Erebor after Smaug's defeat. Thranduil would accept Thorin's embassy and see what came of it.

Having committed his decision to parchment, Thranduil decided that he was in need of a friendly visit. He had not looked in on Doronrîn in several days. It was a lovely afternoon, and she should not spend it confined in her house alone with her grief. Thranduil pulled a light cloak about his shoulders and took to the trees.

When he knocked at Doronrîn's door, there was no answer. He knocked again, in case she had not heard him, and then he turned to leave. Just then, the door opened. Doronrîn stood there, pale and gaunt, her long dark hair hanging limp and tangled about her face.

Thranduil smiled, hoping that it would mask his shock upon seeing her so. "Greetings, Doronrîn," he said gently. "I had come to ask if you would care to walk in the forest with me, but it appears that all is not well. Can I aid you in any way?"

Doronrîn blinked, and her gaze shifted in and out of focus. "I feel . . . strange," she admitted. "Lightheaded . . . as if I am standing outside of my body. I do not know what to make of it."

"It is good that I came, then." Thranduil put an arm around his friend and guided her out onto the walkway. "You should not be alone at home if you are feeling like that. I will take you to the infirmary, and Gilveril will examine you."

Doronrîn nodded vaguely. "Gilveril is a good girl. Where are my children? I do not wish to alarm them."

"We can stop off at Saelind's house before we go to the infirmary," Thranduil said. "I will tell her what is happening, and she can tell Beleghir." He led Doronrîn to Saelind's house and knocked on the door.

Thônion opened it, and his eyes went wide at the sight of his wife's mother barely standing, supported by the King. "Mistress Doronrîn!" he cried. "My Lord, what has happened?"

"I am not certain. I am taking her to the infirmary to find out. Where is Saelind? She must know."

"My wife is not here at the moment," Thônion said. "I will go and find her, and then we will meet you at the infirmary."

Thranduil nodded. "Good. Fetch Beleghir as well. They should both be with their mother." He steered Doronrîn back down the walkway.

Thranduil was sitting on the bench outside the infirmary when Saelind and Thônion arrived. Beleghir followed shortly, with Tinwen in tow. Thranduil raised an eyebrow and smiled to himself when he saw Tinwen. However, the worried expressions on the faces of Saelind and Beleghir quickly sobered him.

"Gilveril is examining her now," he assured them.

"I knew I should not have left her alone last night!" Saelind fretted. "I should have known better than to listen to her when she was in such a state."

"Beloved, calm yourself," Thônion said. "She is your mother, not your daughter. It is natural for you to want to do as she asks. She asked you to stay home last night."

Beleghir sat silently, his jaw clenched, trembling with the effort of staying still. Tinwen held his hand and tried to comfort him. After a few moments, Gilveril stepped into the corridor.

"Saelind, Beleghir, will you come inside?" she asked.

Saelind and Beleghir exchanged solemn glances, then rose and followed Gilveril into the infirmary. The door shut behind them, and Thranduil, Thônion, and Tinwen stared at it. Thranduil sighed and turned to Thônion.

"We have been meeting each other here too often recently," he said, smiling mirthlessly.

"Indeed," Thônion said. They settled down and resumed waiting.

Doronrîn lay on a bed in one of the alcoves, staring at the ceiling. Gilveril led Saelind and Beleghir to her side. "Your mother is not the first person I have seen in this condition," she told them. "Your father's death is tearing her apart, setting her body and her _fëa_ against each other. The grief is slowly killing her body, but there is something within her, some spark that is too strong to die. She stands now upon the brink, pulled in both directions. She needs guidance, and as her nearest kin, you are the ones who can give her that. It is a terrible thing to ask of you, but you must help her to choose whether she lives or dies."

Beleghir turned pale, and Saelind put her arm around her younger brother's shoulders. "Right now?" she asked. "We must choose now?"

Gilveril considered the question. "I think there may be some time," she said. "I think that you do not have to make a final decision in this instant. But you must at least begin to consider the question. If she can occupy herself with ordering her thoughts and weighing her options, her body may recover some of its strength before the final choice is upon her."

Saelind bit her lip and nodded. Beleghir swallowed convulsively. "I cannot help my Nana die," he whispered.

"Perhaps it will not come to that," Gilveril said. "Talk to her now. You need not make your choice today."

Saelind turned and knelt to sit on her heels by the bed. Doronrîn turned to look at her, and Saelind stroked her mother's rough hair. "You frightened us, Nana," Saelind said.

"Saelind . . . my daughter . . . I am sorry." Doronrîn licked her lips. "You should not have to worry about me."

"But we do worry, Nana. We cannot help it."

Beleghir knelt down beside his sister and took his mother's hand. "We grieve for Ada. How can we not be frightened for our Nana, now that you are in such a state?"

"Beleghir . . . your father . . . " Doronrîn choked, and her eyes glittered.

Beleghir clasped her hand tightly. "Weep for him, Nana, if you must. You need not hold back your tears. We are here with you."

Doronrîn's face crumpled, and a tear streaked down her cheek, followed swiftly by another, and then a third. She curled into a ball and wept silently, her body shaking. Saelind and Beleghir leaned over the bed and wrapped their arms around her. Gilveril quietly drew a curtain across the alcove to give the family some privacy, then went to the door to speak with those who waited outside. She was relieved that her news would not be entirely grim. Though Doronrîn's fate was far from clear, Saelind and Beleghir had begun to communicate honestly with her. And that, at least, was enough for a beginning.

When Legolas returned to the delvings late in the afternoon, the guard at the front door hailed him. "Your father asked that I send you directly to the library," he said.

"Thank you. I will go there at once." Puzzled, Legolas headed for Thranduil's private library. When he arrived there, he saw Thranduil sitting in his chair by the fire, a steaming mug on a small table beside him. Legolas knocked on the door, and Thranduil looked up.

"I am here, Ada. The guard said that you had sent for me."

"Come in." Thranduil rose to meet Legolas and embraced him warmly. Legolas allowed the embrace, though he wondered what had caused this surge of protectiveness in Thranduil.

"My apologies," Thranduil said, releasing Legolas from the embrace. "I needed to feel you in my arms and reassure myself once more that you are here. Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, thank you, Ada. What has happened? Is something wrong?"

Thranduil sighed and sat down in his chair opposite Legolas. Briefly, he described his aborted visit with Doronrîn and the subsequent visit to the infirmary. "The choice is upon her now," he said. "She must decide whether to follow Menellir or stay in the world. It will not be an easy choice for her."

Legolas stared at Thranduil in shock. "Not Doronrîn," he said. "She is so strong, like an ancient oak."

A corner of Thranduil's mouth turned up. "That is an apt description. But even the strongest oak may be brought down in a storm. I believe I can appreciate the depths of Doronrîn's grief. I survived something similar when your mother died. But Doronrîn and Menellir had far more time together than I had with your mother."

Legolas could only nod mutely. He only remembered the months after his mother's death dimly. He knew, for Thranduil and Luindil had told him, that he had been dangerously ill for some time afterwards, but he remembered little of that time save a hollow loneliness that was far greater than any physical hunger and that threatened to drain everything from his body. He looked at Thranduil and shuddered at the pain he saw in his father's eyes.

"It is as if half of her has been ripped away," Thranduil murmured, half to himself and half to Legolas. "I am glad that both Saelind and Beleghir were spared to her, for they will be her last, best source of comfort. Perhaps they will convince her to stay." He raised his eyes to meet Legolas's gaze. "I can never tell you how happy I was to see you return. Save for that, I would even now be lying on a bed allowing my life to slip away. I hope that you will forgive me if I wish to keep you close sometimes."

"Ada. . . " Legolas moved to kneel before Thranduil's chair. Thranduil rose and wrapped his arms around his child, the only family left to him in Middle-earth. Legolas leaned against Thranduil and wished with all his heart that his father's embrace still had the power to drive all dark fears away.


	4. Sweet Soldier Boy

**4. Sweet Soldier Boy**

Legolas appeared at breakfast the next morning in a surly mood. He mumbled a cursory greeting to Thranduil, then sat down and poked halfheartedly at his plate of chestnuts and onions. Thranduil noted the dark rings beneath Legolas's eyes with some alarm. Clearly, Legolas had not slept well, but Thranduil had not heard him crying out.

"Did you dream last night?" Thranduil asked, carefully keeping his tone light and conversational.

Legolas glanced briefly at him, then turned away. "Yes."

"What did you dream?"

Another flicker of eyes. "I dreamed of the sea again. You need not concern yourself with my nightmares. They will not go away."

Thranduil laced his fingers together. "Perhaps they will ease over time."

"But they will not go away!" Legolas slammed his fist down on the table. "I am sorry, Ada. I cannot defend the settlement on patrol during the day, and I cannot sleep through the night. You must be ashamed to have such a useless son." He bowed his head and twisted away when Thranduil reached out to him.

"Legolas, stop this," Thranduil said gently. "It is true that I am worried about you, but I am not ashamed to be your father. I am proud of what you did, even as I mourn your battle wounds."

"I have no wounds," Legolas said. He rose and walked away from the table, his food remaining uneaten on the table.

Thranduil signaled to the waitstaff. "Please take his plate back to the kitchen and keep it for him," he said. "Perhaps he will be hungry later in the morning."

The servant nodded and removed Legolas's plate. Thranduil finished his own meal and then went to seek out Luindil.

A short time later, Thranduil paced back and forth before his throne in the Great Hall. Luindil stood in his accustomed place next to the throne and watched him. "I do not know what to do with him," Thranduil said, raking his fingers through his hair. "I sent him to Elrond in part so that he might find some respite and healing from last summer's attack. He has returned to me in more distress than when he left."

Luindil raised an eyebrow. "That is surely not the fault of Lord Elrond."

"No. No, it is not. It is the fault of this cruel War that has intervened." Thranduil resumed his pacing. "My son is whole in body, but he is broken. He needs something that I cannot give him, and I do not know what to do."

"Broken?" Luindil's expression turned inward for a moment. "That is not the first time that you have used that word to describe Legolas."

Thranduil stopped and fixed Luindil with his gaze for a moment. Then, dropping his gaze, he stepped up on the dais and sat heavily on the throne, tilting his head back and staring at the high ceiling of the Great Hall. He pondered Luindil's words for a while, sorting through the jumble of memories that sprang to his mind. There was pain there, grief, shame and fear as well, but there was also hope. Thranduil felt the faint stirrings of an idea. He turned to Luindil and held out his hand.

"May I see the list of business for this morning?" he asked.

Luindil placed the parchment in his hand. Thranduil unrolled it and quickly read through the names of those who had made appointments to see him that day to discuss one thing or another. His eyes lit on one name in particular, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Perhaps this might work," he murmured. "I think it is not too late to ask."

"To ask what, King Thranduil?"

Thranduil handed Luindil the list and pointed to a name halfway down the page. "Mistress Innil, the dancing mistress. She might be able to help Legolas."

Luindil nodded thoughtfully. "It is certainly possible. You found aid and healing with her yourself, once. At any rate, it cannot hurt to ask."

"Let us hope that this magic works as it once did," Thranduil said, sitting up a little straighter. "I will mention it to Mistress Innil when she comes to see me today. See if the first petitioner has arrived. We must begin this day's work."

Luindil opened the doors and admitted the first petitioner to the Great Hall. Thranduil listened attentively to the requests and suggestions, answering those questions that he could answer easily and referring more difficult problems to others who might have the resources to solve them. He approved a request to turn an unused clearing into a vegetable garden and set aside a request from the Raft-elves to adjust the river tolls until he could discuss it at the next meeting of his council. Galion gave him a list of the supplies laid in for the winter, and Thranduil nodded his approval. Meals would not be extravagant, but the Wood-elves seemed to be in no danger of starvation this year.

Finally, Luindil announced the arrival of the one person Thranduil had waited all morning to see. Mistress Innil glided into the Great Hall and dropped a low, graceful curtsey. "Greetings, my Lord," she said. "I have come to request six measures of doeskin from the tanner. We must replace the tunics for the Stag Dancers in the Masque this year. I had kept them in my home, and they were destroyed in the fire."

"Agreed, Mistress Innil." Thranduil rose from the throne and collected a piece of parchment, quill and ink, and his lap desk from a cabinet behind the throne. He wrote out the order to the tanner, sanded it, and gave it to Innil.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said. She curtseyed and was about to leave when Thranduil caught her arm.

"Please stay for a moment longer," he said. "There is something I would ask of you." Quickly, he explained his request and the reasons behind it. Innil nodded slowly.

"Yes, I think that will be fine," she said. "In an ordinary year, it would be rather late to ask, but everything about the Masque is running late this year. I will be happy to honor your request, my Lord." She curtseyed and left the Great Hall.

Luindil smiled at Thranduil. "That went well," he observed. "Do you wish to break the news, or shall I?"

Thranduil considered the question. "Perhaps it might be better if you did it," he said. "Legolas has hinted recently that he finds me overprotective, and he is probably right. I will come and talk to him later, but perhaps you should go now."

It was drawing on noon when Luindil went in search of Legolas. He found him in a corner of the garden, sitting under a tree, taking advantage of the relative warmth of the day. Legolas had brought a lap desk outside with him, and he was writing something. A pot filled with soil stood nearby. Luindil made no effort to move silently, and Legolas looked up at his approach.

"So this is where you vanished to," Luindil said with a smile. "It seems to be a pleasant way to spend a beautiful autumn morning."

"I came to tend my apple seeds." Legolas gestured at the pot. "I watered them and moved them so that they could receive sunshine. I thought about going riding in the forest, but I had no inclination to do so. I did not sleep well last night. So I chose to remain here in the garden."

Luindil nodded. "I am glad that you did not leave," he said, "for there is something I wish to discuss with you. Mistress Innil came to see the King today, and they talked about plans for the Masque."

Legolas set the lap desk aside. "If Mistress Innil wishes me to play the drum for the dancing again, I will be happy to do so," he said. "I missed doing it last winter, and I was sorry about that."

"We were also sorry that you were not with us," Luindil said with a smile. "However, we might forego hearing you play the drum this year as well. Instead, Innil is prepared to offer you the role of the Hunter King."

Legolas stared, not certain he had heard Luindil correctly. "The Hunter King? I could not possibly dance that role well enough. Surely, there must be better dancers in the settlement."

"That is entirely possible," Luindil said. "But that does not matter. The skill that role requires is not so great as you might think. Innil can teach you to dance it, as she has taught dancers for many years." He paused, and looked Legolas straight in the eye. "She taught your father to dance it."

"That is true." Slowly, understanding dawned in Legolas's eyes. "This is not by chance, is it?" he said.

"No." Luindil shook his head. "Legolas, we have all been worried about you. You are unhappy during the day, and terrible dreams plague your nights. Your father is at his wits' end. He has sought something to lift this darkness from you. Dancing as the Hunter King healed his own heart many years ago -- do you remember that? You were very small."

"I remember a little," Legolas said. "I thought he had really died, but he came back. I remember how happy I was." He smiled a little at the memory.

"You did not leave his side for many days after the Masque," Luindil said. "That dance helped your father to emerge from his shadow, and he hopes desperately that it will help to lift yours."

Legolas squirmed as he considered the prospect. Finally, he looked at Luindil and smiled tentatively. "I will dance as the Hunter King," he said, "if you think I can learn the dance before Yule."

Luindil laughed. "I am sure you can, little one. You will have plenty of time to practice."

"Good. I will need it."

"You will dance beautifully, Legolas." Luindil looked at the lap desk. "What have you been writing, if I may ask?"

Legolas glanced at the parchment on the desk. "A letter. I was writing to my friend Gimli."

Luindil became absolutely still. "The Dwarf."

"He is a Dwarf, yes."

Luindil sighed and twisted his hands together. He glanced around the garden as if searching for the correct response. Finally, he looked at Legolas, giving a small, brave smile that could not entirely hide the worry and dismay in his eyes. "Be cautious," he said. "You are fully grown, and I know that you are capable of handling your friendships well. My mind tells me that you will not permit any grief to come of this, but my heart. . . " his voice trailed off. "Be cautious," he finished.

Legolas nodded soberly. "I will," he said. "Gimli is an honorable warrior and a true friend. I hope that you might have the chance to meet him one day, so that you could see that for yourself. He bears no ill will towards our folk."

"I am sure he does not. But still, the voice of experience is powerful." Luindil straightened his spine. "Are you nearly finished writing to him? The court session is nearly finished, and I think your father will want to take lunch with you."

"I am almost finished." Legolas glanced over the letter. "I will end my letter now and then go to the dining hall. I confess that I am hungry, for I could not eat anything at breakfast today."

Luindil smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

Legolas quickly finished his letter, a brief narrative of life in the settlement. He thought for a moment, then added a wish that he and Gimli might find a time and a place to meet in the coming months. It was not that he was unhappy at being home, but sometimes he felt the need to speak of what he had seen during the War with one who had been by his side. When he was satisfied with what he had written, he sanded and folded the letter, sealed it with a bit of beeswax, and took it to the messengers' stable.

One of Thranduil's errand riders took the letter and added it to his bag. "You are just in time," he said. "There is a message from the King to Erebor going out this afternoon. I shall add yours to the messenger's bag."

"Thank you." Legolas nodded politely and went to the dining hall.

Thranduil was already there, waiting for him. There were two full plates on the table. At his place, Legolas recognized the chestnuts and onions he had been unable to eat that morning. A pang of hunger shot through him at the sight of the food, but he turned first to address Thranduil.

"I apologize for my behavior this morning, Ada," he said. "I know that I was rude and churlish. It was not my intent to offend you."

Thranduil smiled and waved Legolas's apology away. "You are forgiven. Sit down, for I am sure that you are hungry."

Legolas needed no second invitation. Even warmed over, the food seemed to taste especially good. Thranduil watched him eat for a few seconds before turning to his own meal.

"Mordor is terrifying to behold," Thranduil said after a while. "Though I cannot claim to have seen anything as spectacular as the downfall of the dark Power that ruled that land, I recall the time I spent before the Black Gates."

Legolas looked up. He had not considered that Thranduil had once fought in the same place where Aragorn had led the last desperate stand of the allied Free Folk. Thranduil, too, had seen the Black Gates open and had faced the horror that had poured forth. "What was it like, Ada?" he asked. "When you faced Sauron at the height of his power?"

Thranduil took a deep breath. "It was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen," he said, "and I speak as one who witnessed the Kinslaying at Doriath. Sauron was terrible in his majesty and might, and I knew that the Elves under my command could not hope to match his armies for numbers or weapons. We fought him for seven years, and the outcome was never certain until Isildur cut the Ring from his hand."

"How do you put such a war out of your mind?" Legolas asked. "It is a constant plague upon the heart. How do you forget what you saw?"

"What makes you think I have forgotten?" Thranduil responded. "I could not erase that shadow from my heart. I think that it will remain with me forever. That was one of the things that I loved about your mother; her presence helped to drive the memory of Mordor from my immediate thoughts."

"I think Nana must have been very wise," Legolas said, glancing shyly at Thranduil.

Thranduil nodded. "She was that. And I know that, had she lived, she would have been just as proud of you as I am. You inherited such courage from her, and your deeds would have given her great joy."

At that, Legolas choked a little. He laughed even as tears ran down his face. Thranduil reached across the table to cup his jaw, wiping at the tears with his thumb. "Will you tell me more about Nana?" Legolas asked.

"Of course." Thranduil smiled. "I have an idea. Finish your meal, and then we will go riding together in the woods. It is a beautiful day, and I do not wish to spend it trapped beneath the earth. I will tell you about your mother as we ride."

"I would like that," Legolas said. He quickly finished the last scraps of food remaining on his plate, oddly glad that his breakfast had been saved for him.

"Bring your bow along," Thranduil said. "I hope that we will not need to defend ourselves against anything evil, but perhaps we might spy some game upon our trail."

A short time later, Thranduil and Legolas rode together along the edge of the forest. Legolas thought that the trees seemed to bow and caress them as they passed, almost as if they were happy to see Elves beneath their boughs. "They like us," he said. "They are glad to see us here, and they wish that we knew how they love us."

Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, but did not dismiss Legolas's words. "I can see that you have spent time with the Ents," he said. "Even I cannot hear the trees so precisely as that. But it sounds like something that the Ents in stories would say."

Thranduil's words startled Legolas. As he thought about it, though, Thranduil was right. Ever since he had met Treebeard and had been privileged to wander through Fangorn Forest, Legolas had heard the voices of the trees differently, and he suspected that they had been reacting to him differently as well. He had not thought about the old childhood stories since then.

"I suppose one learns to listen to the trees differently after one spends time with a tree-herder," he ventured.

"I am sure that is true," Thranduil said. "It is a valuable skill. Do not let it lapse."

"I will not," Legolas said. "But you promised to tell me more about Nana. Will you tell me something now?"

Thranduil laughed. "Of course I will. I will start by telling you how much she enjoyed riding along this very trail. We spent much of our courtship beneath these trees. . . "

So they rode through the bright autumn leaves, and Thranduil told Legolas his favorite memories of his lost, beloved Queen. Legolas had heard some of the stories before, but others were new to him, and he listened appreciatively. Thranduil also spoke of the beauty of Greenwood before the Shadow had fallen on it. "I hope that we will be able to restore some of that beauty now that the Shadow has been defeated," he said. "So many of the people have never seen the forest in its full glory."

His words seemed to touch something deep inside Legolas's heart. He remembered another damaged forest that he had seen, and the beginnings of an idea stirred in his mind. But he decided that it was not the right time to speak to Thranduil about it. He needed to ponder it more thoroughly and accustom himself to all of its implications.

They reached the end of the trail and looked out at the forest's edge. The sun shone on a swath of meadow, filling the air with the heady scent of rich grass drying and baking into hay. Legolas breathed deeply and let out a whoop. He urged his horse forward to gallop across the meadow, and he reveled in the feel of the wind flowing through his hair.

"Ada, come and race!" he cried.

Thranduil laughed out loud and urged his own horse forward. He galloped after his son, and they played in the grass and the sunshine, setting aside the scars of the past and the worries of the present for one afternoon.


	5. The Autumn Tempest Rising

**5. The Autumn Tempest Rising**

Because Innil had begun planning the Masque late that year, the rehearsals were far more intense than usual. As the Hunter King, Legolas had the most dances to learn, and Innil worked him long and hard. Legolas found that he enjoyed the long hours in the dancing chamber. The rehearsals provided a structure that his days had lacked. His friend Neldorín was dancing the role of the Stag King, and they spent many hours together in the dancing chamber, practicing the dangerous, spectacular duet that they would perform in the Masque.

When Innil allowed them short breaks during the rehearsals, they talked about the things they had seen during the War and speculated about what the future might hold. Neldorín voiced his fears about raising Faron in a forest so deeply tainted by the Shadow. "I know that we defeated it," he said one day. "But there are still spiders lurking in the deep thickets, and I have heard rumors of stray Orcs, though I have not seen any since the battles ended. And I cannot forget seeing my house go up in flames and not knowing if Arasiel and Faron were still inside."

"Houses can be rebuilt," Legolas said. "Families cannot. Luck was with you that day."

Neldorín nodded. "It was. I am deeply grateful that both Arasiel and Faron escaped. I think I might have laid down my own life if they had not. Luck was with you as well, I hear. You have traveled far through the world and you have come back whole."

Legolas laughed a little. "I did not escape entirely unharmed. You think that is true only because I tarried so long in Gondor before I returned home. I was wounded in the battle on the Pelennor fields, but it was not serious, and the healers in Gondor are skilled."

"That changes nothing," Neldorín chuckled. "Luck was still with you, my friend."

"I hear you laughing," Innil put in from across the room. "If you have breath enough to laugh, you have breath enough to dance. You have rested enough. Come, I would have you practice throwing the spear now. It would not do to come unscathed through the War only to be wounded while dancing."

Legolas smiled and pulled Neldorín to his feet. They stretched until their muscles hummed, then walked to the places Innil indicated in the center of the dancing chamber. Innil gave Legolas a blunted practice spear of wood, and he and Neldorín spent the next hour working with it. Legolas threw the spear, softly at first and from a short distance, and Neldorín practiced catching it. Since they would be using a real spear with a sharp metal head in the Masque, there was no room for error, and they practiced every day.

Legolas found that he enjoyed this aspect of rehearsal for the intense concentration it demanded. When he threw the spear, his mind was calm, and there was no room for frightening or disorderly thoughts. It was worth the sore muscles for the peace of mind it brought afterwards. Legolas began to understand why Thranduil had arranged for him to dance in the Masque rather than play the drum, and he worked hard so that he would dance as well as he possibly could on the longest night of the year.

On days when Innil released Legolas and Neldorín early so that she could work with other dancers, Thranduil would often take Legolas out riding in the woods. Most days, they brought hunting equipment with them and brought back game to be preserved against the coming winter. Although Legolas still could not face the prospect of fighting the remnants of the Shadow on patrol, his shooting eye was as sharp as ever, and he was able to hunt. It pleased him that he could still contribute to the well-being of the community, and every successful hunt improved his mood tremendously.

As Legolas rode with Thranduil, he saw the clearings the fire had created. Thranduil assured him that they looked much less raw after half a year under the care of the Wood Elves. Legolas still found them disorienting, but he could see the new young plants that had grown among the ashes of the old ones, and he took heart at the evidence that the forest could indeed be renewed.

Even when they did not bring back game, neither Legolas nor Thranduil considered the rides in the forest to be time badly spent. There was much that Thranduil wanted to hear about Legolas's experiences on his travels, and Legolas found that it was easier for him to speak when his body was occupied riding a horse. With the forest shimmering before his eyes, he could speak about the times when he had feared that he would never see his home again.

"Tell me about the sea," Thranduil said one day as they rode.

Legolas glanced at him, startled. "What would you have me tell you?"

"I am not certain. I know very little about the sea, and I have never beheld it. Yet I see the power it has gained over you, and I would like to know something of this new force working in your mind." Thranduil chuckled a little. "Dwarves I can understand, for I have met them. But the sea . . . that is not so easy."

"You are correct," Legolas said. "It is not easy." He was silent for a while, not knowing where to begin.

"You dream of it often," Thranduil said. "Far oftener, I suspect, than I am aware of. What do you see in those dreams? What is it that terrifies you so?"

"I have not yet beheld the sea either," Legolas admitted. "But I heard the wailing of the gulls at Pelargir, and I smelled the salt air. It smells the way one feels after one has wept. From that moment, I knew that I must go to the source of that scent eventually. I did not know what would await me there, only that it meant leaving my home and my family behind." He choked at the thought, and refused to speak any more for a while.

They rode along the trail in silence, Thranduil following behind Legolas, allowing his son to choose where they would go. Presently, they began to hear the sound of rushing water, and Legolas turned aside from the main trail. He led Thranduil along a side path until they came to a grassy spot on the banks of a small creek. The Elves dismounted and allowed their horses to drink from the creek, then filled their own water skins.

"While we stayed in Minas Tirith, I asked Aragorn if he had ever seen the sea," Legolas said. "He showed me a picture in a book. It was a vast expanse of water – larger even than the Long Lake. It was as if all of the plains of Rohan were made of water. The sun shines bright and hot on the sea, and it is deep enough to hold creatures the size of a house. Do you understand, Ada? There is nothing but water and sunlight. There is no solid ground. I do not know how I could ever find my way if I were to stray into the sea. I can swim, but I do not know if I could swim in that."

"That is why you kick and lash out in your dreams," Thranduil said, half to himself and half to Legolas. "You are searching for solid ground."

"The sea will swallow me, Ada. I fear it, but I cannot escape it."

Thranduil squatted by the creek, trailing his fingers in the water, as he considered Legolas's words. He squinted at the play of the sunlight filtering through the trees on the rushing water. At last, he stood up and faced Legolas.

"I cannot promise you that you will never be lost, or that you can ignore the call of the sea indefinitely," he said. "I cannot even tell you that I am certain of what might await you on the opposite shore. But I will tell you this. Wherever you find yourself, in whatever danger or trial, you are my son. You are forever the shining star of my life, and there is nothing that can change that. When you are lost in a dark place with no ground beneath your feet and nothing to guide you on your way, remember that you are not alone, for my thoughts will be with you always."

Legolas looked at him, almost undone by the naked emotion in Thranduil's voice. "Thank you, Ada," he murmured, then turned away and leaned against a tree until he could regain control of himself. When he stopped shaking, Thranduil laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The sun was beginning to set. Thranduil and Legolas mounted their horses and rode back to the delvings in silence. They had not brought down any game that day, but they did not mind.

Doronrîn had regained much of her physical strength, and Gilveril had released her from the infirmary. Her awareness of the choice laid out for her, of whether to choose to heal fully or to follow Menellir to Mandos, had changed her behavior. Though she was now almost as active and straightforward as she had been before the War, there was a certain deliberation to her movements. She threw herself into the work of autumn, roaming far through the forest to gather herbs to dry.

She had been unable to face the prospect of returning to her small, empty house, so Beleghir had promptly taken her in. Unwilling to let the house stand empty, Doronrîn sought out Tinwen, who was living in a guest chamber in the delvings while she provided assistance with the Wood-elves' gardens.

"Do you intend to remain here in Eryn Lasgalen?" Doronrîn asked her.

Tinwen smiled shyly. "If. . . things work out, yes. I do wish to remain. I like it here. It is certainly not the sort of life I am accustomed to leading, but there is something invigorating about it."

"That something would not be my son, would it?"

At that, Tinwen blushed and busied her hands among the carrots she was pulling. She made a fuss of dusting them and placing them into the harvest bag slung around her shoulder. At last, her hands stilled, and she looked at Doronrîn. "Beleghir is . . . I do not know how to describe him. He has such a sense of purpose, and he inspires me. His life has not been one of gentleness or leisure, yet he is fairer to look upon than many who have dwelt in the shelter of the Golden Woods. A year ago, I did not know that he existed, and now I cannot imagine a life without him."

"Good," Doronrîn said. "He loves you, too." Tinwen's blush deepened, and Doronrîn laughed out loud. "Tinwen, he is my son, and I have known his moods since first I carried him within me. I can see that he loves you, and also that you love him. That is no great secret."

"You do not mind?"

"Mind? Why should I mind? You are kind, pleasant, and hardworking, and you bring joy into my son's life. I could desire nothing more for him."

Tinwen breathed a sigh of relief. "I had hoped you would approve."

"I do. And that is why I will make you this offer. If you would truly choose to make your life in these woods, it is not fitting for you to remain in a guest chamber. Will you remove to my house? I cannot live in it at the moment, but it is a lovely place, and it should not go to waste. If you have lived in Lothlórien, perhaps you would be happier dwelling among the branches than in a chamber beneath the earth."

"Oh, Mistress Doronrîn!" Tinwen cried. "I will be happy to occupy that house, if you would have me. I will care for it well."

"Then that is settled," Doronrîn said. "And you need not address me as 'Mistress,' Tinwen, if you intend to court Beleghir. Just 'Doronrîn' will do."

Impulsively, Tinwen embraced Doronrîn. "Thank you, Doronrîn," she said. "I do not know if it is proper for Beleghir and me to court so soon after his father's death, but –"

"There has already been too much death in these woods," Doronrîn said. "If Beleghir feels that he is ready to be courted, then it is the proper time. Perhaps you will marry, and perhaps you will eventually bring forth new life, and that is most proper after a war."

Gilveril, Saelind, and Arasiel helped Tinwen move her belongings into the little house in the trees. Tinwen had not brought many things with her from Lothlórien, and Doronrîn had left most of the furniture in the house. The four ladies finished the move swiftly, and Tinwen invited them to stay and refresh themselves with a bottle of wine from the Golden Woods. "It is a special day," she said. "Doronrîn has given me permission to court Beleghir. I hope that he will be my husband."

Arasiel laughed. "If the way that he looks at you is any indication, you will not have to worry long about that. His eyes follow you constantly when you are together, and his face softens most charmingly."

"Neldorín used to look at you that way," Gilveril said.

"And he still does," Saelind added. She turned to Tinwen. "You need not worry. Beleghir is my little brother, and I know when he is and is not in love."

Tinwen smiled. "And?"

Saelind laughed. "He is more deeply in love than I have ever seen him before. I will be thrilled to have you for a sister."

Tinwen turned pink. Gilveril raised her cup. "Let us drink a health to the future bride!"

Tinwen poured more wine, and they all drank deeply, excited over the future for the first time in many months.

The fair weather did not last long. Several days later, the sky turned gray, and the wind blew chill through the trees. The Wood Elves waited out the storm with a certain amount of trepidation. This would be their first autumn spent entirely in the trees, and the wind and the rain would test the strength of the new houses they had constructed with the aid of the Galadhrim. Thranduil directed his staff to open the emergency halls deep within the delvings in case the tree houses failed, and the whole community settled down to see what the first serious storm of autumn would bring.

The winds blew, and the tree-tops swayed. Parents kept their children away from the windows, and no one ventured out onto the wildly swinging walkways. Several dwellings lost pieces of their thatching, and one walkway lost some planks. However, the houses, supported by the solid trunks of the oldest, largest trees in the area, proved sturdy. The damage was not much more than the old ground houses would have sustained in a similar storm.

When Thranduil called his council together after the storm had passed, Inglor was ecstatic and declared the move to the trees a complete success. Luindil was somewhat more cautious. "The houses have passed their first test," he said. "Now I would see how well they hold up to the snows of winter. If they are still solid when spring arrives, then I will be well satisfied with them."

"This project has had a good beginning, at least," Thranduil declared. "For the moment, I am pleased with the choices we have made. Nothing was damaged that cannot be repaired." He turned to Galion. "What of our food supply?" he asked. "Will we be able to fill our bellies this winter?"

Galion, for the first time in several years, smiled in response to that question. "Considering the destruction that the Orcs wrought, the forest was uncommonly fruitful this summer," he said. "We have far more vegetables stored than previously, thanks to our new gardens, and the foraging and hunting are much improved over the last few years. There is still time to hunt and to gather the last stray roots and nuts, of course, but if we are diligent, I believe that we might not go hungry."

Everyone smiled upon hearing that. "That is the best news I have heard in a long time," Thranduil said.

"Perhaps it is a sign that the Shadow is lifting after all," Inglor offered.

"Perhaps. However, as Galion said, there is still room for additional game in our storage rooms. I believe that I will go out hunting with Legolas today and see what I can add to my people's food supply for the winter."

That afternoon, as Thranduil and Legolas rode through the forest, Thranduil observed the fallen branches in their path, and reminded himself to send foresters along this trail to collect and cure the wood. Suddenly, Legolas signaled with his hand and dashed away in pursuit of a deer he had spied through the trees. Thranduil followed, and they pursued the deer through the forest. It was a stag, strong, but young and inexperienced. Legolas whooped, and the stag panicked. Forgetting everything that it had learned about evading danger by disappearing into the forest, the deer thundered blindly along its trail.

Thranduil and Legolas worked together to herd it towards a steep ridge where the river made a waterfall. Disoriented by the sound of the rushing water, its path blocked by the ridge, the stag turned to face them. It caught the scent of Thranduil's horse closing in on it and tried to run along the base of the ridge, but Legolas circled around, threatening it and cutting off that road of escape. The stag's escape attempt gave Thranduil just enough time to pull an arrow from his quiver and string it. He shot the stag cleanly in the heart.

The Elves dismounted and instructed their horses to remain nearby. They approached the fallen stag cautiously. When they were sure that he would not suddenly struggle to his feet and lash out at them, Legolas swiftly drew his knife across the beast's throat to ensure the kill. Thranduil knelt down to inspect their prey.

"He has fed well this autumn," Thranduil said. "There is plenty of meat here. The antlers are small, but they will serve to make buttons, or combs, or cutlery, all the little things that the Orcs burned. Let us dress him here and then return to the settlement."

Legolas nodded and knelt to slice the deer open to bleed it. Thranduil removed the deer's entrails and spread the carcass out to cool it. He went to the foot of a large tree and began to dig a hole to bury the entrails. Legolas carried the heart and the liver to the water to clean them. As he was wrapping them in a clean, cloth-lined pouch, a barely perceptible murmur from the trees caught his attention.

Slowly, he turned around, and froze in horror at what he saw. An enormous black spider, drawn by the fresh kill, was creeping along a large branch just above Thranduil's head. The tree groaned in distress, and Legolas saw that the branch had been struck by lightening during the storm, and was now half sheared from the trunk. Quickly, Legolas dropped the pouch and pulled a throwing knife from his boot.

"Ada," he said softly, "do not move. There is a spider above you."

Thranduil looked up from the hole he was digging. His body tensed as he realized that the spider had seen him. It looked down, and then settled on the branch, intending to descend on a strand of silk and sting the Elf below.

Black spots danced before Legolas's eyes. He fought down a surge of panic and forced his hands to remain steady. Thranduil shifted slightly, ready to dodge if the spider should start its descent. Legolas steadied his shaking legs and hissed sharply to draw the spider's attention. As it looked up, Legolas threw his knife, burying it deep within the cluster of the spider's eyes.

The spider screeched and jerked back with the force of the throw. It convulsed twice, then fell to the ground. Legolas dashed forward and used his hunting knife to slice the spider's head from its body. But the sudden shift of weight had been too much for the damaged branch. It gave out a groan, then a series of short, sharp snaps.

Thranduil glanced up and saw the branch hanging precariously off the tree. In a flash, he realized that the danger was not over. He instinctively turned to locate Legolas, who was also staring up at the branch.

"Ada, run!" Legolas said.

Thranduil's body moved to protect his child, and he leaped to push Legolas away from the tree. With a powerful crack, the branch fell from the tree. Legolas felt the sting of twigs and dead leaves against his face as he went sprawling on the ground.

"Ada!" he cried. There was no answer.


	6. Let The Worst Be Known

**6. Let The Worst Be Known**

Dazed and bleeding, Thranduil blinked his eyes. His thoughts flowed through his mind in a muddy swirl, and it took him several moments to collect his wits and take stock of his situation. He was lying on his stomach, his face pressed to the ground, though he was surrounded by leaves. There was a heavy weight on his back, pressing him into the ground, and there was a sharp pain in his hip and a numb spot on his back. The leaves about him rustled, the weight on his back shifted, and he could hear Legolas frantically calling him.

After a moment, he remembered what had happened. A spider had crept up on him, but Legolas had killed it. The tree branch above him had cracked under the spider's weight. Thranduil remembered pushing Legolas away, and then there had been a cracking, rustling noise, and something had struck him a ferocious blow. The branch must have fallen on him, Thranduil realized.

With that thought, his awareness returned fully. Legolas had lifted most of the branch's weight off of him. Thranduil squirmed out from under it, ignoring the pain in his hip and back when he saw the shattered expression on Legolas's face. Legolas sat down hard on the ground. Thranduil crawled over to him and swept him into a fierce embrace, cradling Legolas's head against his shoulder as Legolas began to weep.

"Oh, mouse," Thranduil said. "Oh, little mouse, it is all right. I am here with you, I will not let you go. My brave little mouse, you killed the spider. The spider is dead, and I am here with you. It is all right now." Legolas clung to him desperately, his tears wetting Thranduil's shirt. Thranduil held him and murmured soothing words until he calmed down.

"My brave little mouse, you saved my life," Thranduil said. "I cannot thank you enough."

"I thought you were going to die," Legolas gasped. "I thought the spider would take you, that I would not be able to move fast enough. And then the branch fell, and I did not know. . . "

"It is all right. I am somewhat battered and bruised, but I have taken no serious injury. What of you? Are you wounded?" Thranduil frowned at the welts across Legolas's face, but he seemed to have no other injuries.

"I do not think so. But I do not think I can walk right now, either. I am shaking too much."

"Then let us rest here for a while," Thranduil said. His hip twinged, and he shifted Legolas in his arms. "I also do not feel that I can get up."

"Are you wounded, Ada?" Legolas looked alarmed. "Perhaps we should try to return to the delvings."

"Nothing is broken. I simply wish to rest for a time and rejoice that I am alive."

Legolas nodded and rested his head on Thranduil's shoulder. They sat quietly together for a while, beneath the wounded tree, breathing in the sharply scented air. Gradually, Legolas relaxed against Thranduil and slipped into a half-sleep. Thranduil let him rest, for he knew that Legolas had been sleeping poorly.

The sun sank lower in the sky, and the winds picked up and began to blow chill. Gently, Thranduil shook Legolas. "I think we have rested long enough, mouse," he said. "The deer's carcass has surely cooled enough by now, and we should bring it home before dark."

Legolas nodded and rose to his feet. With a groan, Thranduil moved to rise as well, but Legolas motioned for him to remain seated. "You are wounded, Ada," he said. "You should not rise yet. I will load the deer's carcass onto my horse, and then I will help you to mount yours. I will lead my horse, and we will return to the delvings that way."

"Thank you. That is a kind thought." Thranduil sat back and watched as Legolas called his horse. When the animal stepped out of the brush, Legolas slowly maneuvered the deer's carcass across its back and strapped it firmly in place. Then he took the pouch containing the heart and liver and fastened it to the deer's antlers. When he had finished, he called Thranduil's horse.

Even with Legolas's assistance, rising from the ground and mounting his horse was a slow, painful task for Thranduil. He was profoundly grateful once he was seated, and they began to walk slowly back home.

"A tree branch?" Gilveril asked, as Thranduil removed his shirt and lay down on a couch in the infirmary. "I confess that I am almost grateful to see a simple accident after all the battle wounds I have healed. Please turn onto your stomach, my Lord."

Thranduil obeyed, and Gilveril began to examine his injuries with her warm hands. She prodded at the tender places on his back and hip, examined his head, and peered at his eyes. Satisfied, she sat back on her heels.

"You are fortunate, my Lord. There are no broken bones, and there is nothing that I cannot deal with easily." She placed her hands over the worst of the injuries, and Thranduil sighed with pleasure at the healing warmth that spread from them as Gilveril encouraged the torn and bruised muscles to reknit. Almost too soon for his liking, she removed her hands and prodded the injuries again.

"Well?" Thranduil asked. "Will I survive?"

Gilveril smiled. "I believe so, my Lord. Give your body a chance to mend completely. Do not do anything strenuous for a day or so, and you will be whole again."

Slowly, Thranduil rolled over and sat up. "That would be a marvelous thing indeed," he said, "if one member of this community were truly to become whole again."

Gilveril raised an eyebrow, then looked down at her hands. Almost without thinking, she touched the silver betrothal ring on her finger and gave a sad little smile. "I suppose you are right, my Lord," she said. "But even if we can only ever be whole in body, we might as well work towards that goal with all that we have."

Legolas described to Inglor exactly where he and Thranduil had encountered the spider and what they had done about it. "As far as I know, the carcass is still by the river," he said. "We remained there for some time, but that was the only spider we saw."

Inglor nodded. "It is likely that there is no colony of them near there, but I will send a patrol out that way to make sure of that. We have been seeing fewer colonies recently. I hope that that is a sign that the spiders are slowly vanishing from the forest."

"I hope the carcass has not attracted more of them," Legolas said. "I know that I should have burned it or buried it, but after I saw that my father was alive, I could not move or think any more."

"Do not worry about that. Such an encounter would be terrifying for anyone." Inglor paused for a moment and considered his next words. "In fact, when I think of the circumstances of this attack, I think you performed exceptionally well, Legolas. I know that you have been unable to go out with the patrols recently, but you were able to keep your head and deal with the spider today."

"But afterwards, I was of no use to anyone. I could barely stand. It was by sheer good fortune that my father was not hurt severely."

Inglor nodded. "That is true. I do not think that you are ready to go out on a patrol tomorrow. But I think that you are beginning to recover from whatever it is that causes this inability. You will not go out with the patrols now, but I have no doubt that you will be able to go out with them again some time in the future. Now, go and rest. You have done well today, and you have earned it."

Thranduil had been intending to pay Doronrîn a brief visit after returning from the hunt, but he realized that he would be unable to do so. Luindil offered to go in his stead. "I have not seen her since Gilveril allowed her to leave the infirmary," he said. "I would like to see for myself how she fares."

"Of course," Thranduil replied. "Give her my greetings when you see her."

Luindil brought a small pouch of hickory nuts with him when he knocked on the door of Beleghir's house. Doronrîn answered the door with a smile for her old friend. "Welcome, Luindil," she said. "Come inside. Beleghir is visiting with Tinwen at the moment, and the house was becoming lonely."

"I am glad to see you as well," Luindil said. He followed her into the kitchen, and placed the pouch of nuts into her hands. "A small gift. King Thranduil wished to come to see you today, and he would have brought you some fresh venison, but he is unable to come." Briefly, Luindil told Doronrîn of the accident in the woods.

When he had finished, Doronrîn blew out a sigh of relief. "At least they are both alive, praise Elbereth. I do not think that I could bear any more losses, especially not Thranduil or Legolas."

"You are not the only one," Luindil said. "I have watched both of them grow from newborn infants to the adults they are today. Sometimes, it is a shock to realize how much I care for them. I fear that the King and his son are the only children I will ever have a hand in raising."

"There is that," Doronrîn said thoughtfully. "Saelind and Beleghir have been a great comfort to me these past months. Their presence makes my choice a difficult one. I cannot abandon my children, yet their father's death gnaws at my heart every day. There are times when I envy you for never having married."

Luindil gave her a wry grimace. "It was not by my choice. And I have envied the marriages of my friends for thousands of years."

"There you have it, then," Doronrîn laughed. "In the end, we have all known loss. Who is to say which losses are less terrible than others? Perhaps if things had gone differently for me, I might never have known the pain of mourning my husband, but I might also never have known his love, or the love of our children. I do not know if that would have been a better path."

"Perhaps you will see him again one day."

Doronrîn poured the hickory nuts into a bowl. Then she reached into a bin, took out two onions, and began to peel and chop them. "I do not know if I believe that," she said. "Ever since I was small, I have been told that the dead will be re-embodied in Valinor. But no one I know has ever returned to say whether or not it is true. There are times when I do not want to believe it, so that I will not be disappointed. But there are times when I desperately want it to be true, so that I can have hope. Do you believe it, Luindil? Do you believe that the dead will be re-embodied?"

Luindil arranged wood and kindling in the small clay hearth pot. "I remember Melian, Thingol's Queen," he said. "Even in the body of an Elf, her power was formidable. Across the Sea there are beings greater than she was. It might not be beyond their strength to re-house the spirit of an Elf. I think it is certainly possible that Ilúvatar intends for us to be re-housed after death, but, no, I cannot say for certain that it is true."

He lit the fire. Doronrîn poured a little oil into a three-legged pan and set it over the hearth. She swirled the pan meditatively, waiting for the oil to warm. When it released its fragrance, she put the onions and hickory nuts in the pan and began to stir them.

"I cannot die," she said after a while. "As strong as the pain of Menellir's death is, my will is stronger, and it will not let me follow him into death. But neither can I live here, in this forest, where we were born, where we lived and loved each other. I do not know how to do that, and I fear that I might fade until there is nothing left of me. How does one go on living in a place where one's love has died?"

Luindil stared at the cooking nuts and onions, mesmerized. "Doriath was never the same for me," he murmured. "Even though I had a new family, I could not set foot in Menegroth again. I think that I was almost glad when the sons of Fëanor descended upon it."

Doronrîn snorted. "That is less than encouraging. Even if I chose to leave this forest and its memories behind, I cannot think of a place where I might want to go."

"I have left many homes behind," Luindil replied, "and it is never a pleasant thing. I suppose that, in the end, the reason I believe that the dead will be re-embodied is because I want it to be true. If I believe, then I can hope that one day I will see my lost family and friends once more."

Doronrîn shook the pan over the hearth. "I will try to share in your belief. It will make the months easier."

"Months? Have you chosen to remain, then?"

"I did not say that." Doronrîn smiled to soften the sting of her words. "Tinwen came to me recently and asked permission to court Beleghir. That was the first joy I have felt since the War ended. Beleghir works so hard and has borne so much. I want him to have some joy of life as well. I think that I will remain long enough to see what comes of their courtship."

Luindil nodded thoughtfully. "It is brave of you to say that, considering that the pain that tears at your own heart is the result of courtship and marriage."

"Perhaps. But before the pain, there was joy, and I cannot forget that. Tinwen will make Beleghir happy, and I cannot find it in me to deny him that."

"I think you are better suited to belief than you know."

Doronrîn shrugged. "We will see. In the meantime, will you stay and eat with me? You have helped to prepare the food, after all, and Beleghir is still not home. I would welcome the company."

"Gladly."

They divided the nuts and onions between two plates and sat down to eat. And for a time they put their doubts and worries aside and allowed themselves the joy of sharing a meal with a friend.

Even as weary as he was, Thranduil found it difficult to sleep that night. Gilveril had given him several packets of willow-bark tea that he could brew if he was in pain, but even with the tea, some dull, nagging aches remained. Thranduil suspected that these aches stemmed more from emotional rather than physical distress. However, they were still enough to make sleeping difficult. After tossing and turning in his bed for some time, Thranduil decided that it was foolish to fight that battle any longer.

He rose and went to the library, where he lit a fire and hung a kettle over it, in the hopes that tea and reading might smooth the way for sleep. He settled down with a volume about the court of Doriath at its height and began to read by the firelight. After a while, he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, and was not surprised to see Legolas enter. "I suppose that you could not sleep?"

"No."

"I guessed as much." Thranduil set his book aside and gestured to the other comfortable chair in the library. "Come, join me. I am boiling water for tea. Would you like some?"

"Yes, please." Legolas hesitated for a moment. Then, he sat down, not in the other chair, but on the floor at Thranduil's feet, leaning against Thranduil's good leg. It was a posture he had often adopted as a child, after he had considered himself too old to sit on Thranduil's lap but still in need of contact. Reflexively, Thranduil laid his hand on Legolas's head, and Legolas relaxed against him.

They did not speak for some time, but gazed at the dancing fire in the hearth. When the water in the kettle began to boil, Legolas got up and poured it into the teapot that sat on a small side table, then took two mugs from a cupboard in the table and set them beside the teapot. Then he returned to sit at Thranduil's feet. Thranduil resumed stroking his hair.

"I have been thinking, Ada," Legolas said softly. "I cannot remain here, in the forest."

A sharp pain that had nothing to do with his injuries stabbed through Thranduil's chest, making his breath catch and his eyes sting. He forced himself to remain calm and continue stroking Legolas's hair as if nothing was wrong. "Have you made your choice at last?" he asked. "Will you go over the Sea?"

Something in his voice must have alarmed Legolas, for he turned to look Thranduil in the face. "No," he said. "I am not ready to do that yet. I do not intend to sail for a long time. I did not mean to frighten you, Ada." Legolas got to his feet and poured the tea. He placed one mug in Thranduil's hands and sat down on the floor again with his own mug.

Thranduil sipped his tea and did not allow his relief to show on his face. "If you do not mean to frighten me, what do you mean?"

A faint smile flickered across Legolas's face. "I am not sure that I can explain it exactly," he said, setting his mug down on the floor beside him. "When I was traveling, I wanted nothing more than to return home. That was my wish, and it sustained me through many long leagues and strange lands. And then, finally, I was able to come home, but I have not found the peace I dreamed of for so many months."

Legolas took a deep, ragged breath and looked away. Thranduil set his own mug down and took Legolas's hands in his. "You have not been home for very long. A little over a month."

"It is different," Legolas said. "Or perhaps I am different. Something has changed. Perhaps it is the new houses. I do not know. The forest does not feel like my home any more."

"It has changed since you went away."

Legolas nodded. "I went to Heledir's grave," he said. "The sapling tree that his mother planted over it was burned, just a charred stick. So many people are dead, and so many more are shells of themselves. It grieves me to see it, and I want nothing more than to heal it. But I cannot. The land is too old, and I cannot heal a place that has cared for me for so long. I am not strong enough."

"What do you wish to do, then?"

"There is another land." Legolas took a deep breath. "I have seen the forests of Ithilien, Ada. That land is wild, and it has struggled for so long against the powers of the One who dwelt across the mountains. Ithilien is ready to accept life once again, Ada. I think I could help that land to heal. That is where I wish to go."

"I see." Thranduil sat back in his chair and took a long drink of his cooling tea. Legolas regarded him uncertainly for a few moments.

"Will you give me your permission, Ada? I will not go to Ithilien if it is against your will."

Something in Thranduil broke then, and he laughed, even as a few tears leaked from his eyes. "Oh, Legolas," he said. "Do not worry. If that is your heart's desire – if moving to this new land will make you happy – then I will allow it. I do remember Ithilien as it was of old, and it was a fair land. If you can restore that beauty, then you may go."

Legolas relaxed visibly, and a smile spread across his face. "I thought you would not approve."

"Such a journey is not what I would have chosen," Thranduil admitted. "Not so soon after you have come home again. But it is only distance, after all. You will not be sailing across the Sea forever, at least, not yet. Perhaps I will come and visit you in this new land of yours. And if you wished to return here, there will always be a place for you, here in the land of your birth."

"Thank you, Ada."

Thranduil smiled and shook his head. "Oh, mouse, what else could I tell you? There have been so many times when I could not give you what you needed. I could not prevent your mother's death, and I could not give you my love for so long afterwards. I could not give you a land where you could grow up in safety, or a childhood free of fear and danger. There were times when I could not even give you enough food to eat, and you went hungry and miserable. And now, all that you ask is the freedom to live in a place that will care for you even as you care for it. How can I not give you that freedom? You have my blessings, little mouse. Go where you will, but come home now and again."

"I will, Ada. Thank you." Legolas moved to lean against Thranduil's leg again. "I will stay here for a little while longer, I think. I must dance in the Masque, of course, and I do not wish to travel over the winter. But when spring comes, I will go to Ithilien."

Thranduil smiled. "I am glad that you will stay for a little while longer."

Legolas was silent for a while after that, and Thranduil thought he had fallen asleep. But then he stirred. "Ada," he asked, "do you regret sending me to Imladris?"

Thranduil blinked in surprise. He had not given that issue much thought. "I do not know," he said at last. "At the time, I felt that it was the best thing to do, both for you and for our people. Had I known what would come of it. . ." His voice trailed off as he considered the problem. "I do not know. You went on your journey, and you helped to save the world. I feared for your life every day that you were traveling, but you returned home, if only for a little while. Perhaps, if you had stayed home, you might have been killed in the battles here. Or the Ringbearer's quest might not have been fulfilled. There is no way to know. I think that, in the end, I regret your wounds, but I do not regret the courage that drove you onward. That is all I wish to say on that matter."

"It is enough, Ada. Thank you."

"You are most welcome. And now, I think that we should both go to bed. I, for one, am weary. Will you help me to rise?"

Legolas smiled and helped Thranduil to his feet. Thranduil kissed him on the forehead, and they each returned to their beds more hopeful that sleep would find them.


	7. Sing We And Chant It

**7. Sing We And Chant It**

Legolas brushed sweat from his eyes. He crossed one leg behind the other, and then bent slowly forward, until his hands brushed the floor of the dancing chamber. He held the position for several moments, enjoying the stretch in the back of his crossed leg. Then, as slowly as he had bent down, he straightened his spine, imagining the bones stacking themselves one on top of another. As he came up from his stretch, he caught a glimpse of Neldorín balancing on one foot and swinging his other leg forward and back.

The Masque was approaching quickly, and Innil had worked both of them for a long time today. She had paused to retune her fiddle, and both Legolas and Neldorín were glad of the opportunity to stretch their sore muscles. Neldorín glanced at Innil and then signaled to Legolas. Legolas looked, and saw that Innil had set the fiddle on the small table that held her instruments and was flexing her hands, stretching and massaging each finger. She caught their eyes and smiled.

"Do not think you are the only ones who must work," she said. "You have been dancing for a long time today, but I have been providing music for just as long."

"It is lovely music, and we thank you for it, Mistress Innil," Neldorín said, bowing deeply. "We would not wish to tire your fingers overmuch, however."

Innil laughed. "Flattery will not avail you, Neldorín. I would see the two of you dance the Hunter's Dance before I release you today."

"One dance," Legolas said. "It will not be so bad, Neldorín. One dance, and then you will be free. I must stay and attend the rehearsal of the Sword Dance after this."

"Ah, well," Neldorín said, with an exaggerated sigh. "That is not so bad, then. Come, let us dance."

He and Legolas took up their positions at the far end of the dancing chamber. Innil tucked her fiddle against her arm, tuned it briefly, then nodded. She played a bright, sprightly melody, and Neldorín danced to the center of the room with the graceful leaps and whirls that signaled his identity as the King Stag. After his introductory dance, Legolas performed his own entrance as the Hunter King. They moved together through the complex, athletic Hunter's Dance, performing the Hunter's pursuit of the Stag through the forest and showing off the skill and physical prowess of both dancers.

The Stag challenged the Hunter to leap progressively higher barriers. In the full performance, Innil's assistants, dressed in black, would raise large, twisting branches. In this rehearsal, they wielded short wands intended only to give Legolas and Neldorín a reference point for their leaps.

The Hunter's Dance was spectacular but demanding, and both dancers were covered with sweat by the time it was over. "You have done well," Innil said, setting her fiddle down. "Legolas, you must be more precise with the placement of your feet just before the spiral, and Neldorín, you must remember to keep your back straighter. After all, you will be supporting a headdress. But you both have good memory for the steps, and the flow of the dance is improving. Go and clean yourselves, for you have worked hard today."

Too weary to say anything in response, Legolas and Neldorín nodded their thanks and headed for the washstand in one corner of the dancing chamber. Neldorín stripped off his undershirt and washed his face, arms, and chest thoroughly, while Legolas, for whom the rehearsal was not yet finished, contented himself with a splash of water and vigorous toweling.

"You dance well," he said. "Will Arasiel come to see your performance?"

"I do not know," Neldorín replied. "We have discussed it, but we have not yet reached a conclusion. Faron is still too young to sit up for the Masque. I think that Arasiel wishes to see it, but she does not wish to leave Faron alone."

"There must be a solution," Legolas said. "Faron is not the only small child in the settlement. Galion might know what other parents plan to do on that night."

"That is a good thought. I will go and ask him before I go home." Neldorín reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. "In the meantime, enjoy the Sword Dance."

Legolas nodded and draped his towel over his shoulders. Neldorín and the two assistants left the dancing chamber just as six adolescent dancers, four girls and two boys, filed in. They all carried blunt metal swords. Innil greeted them and made sure each child had brought a sword. They gathered near the doorway, removed their shoes, and pulled on soft doeskin slippers. When they were ready, they lined up in front of Innil.

"Welcome," she said. "Today, I wish to begin with the end of the Sword Dance, since Legolas is here with us now. We will begin with the final circle. Please take your positions."

The children and Legolas moved to the places that Innil indicated, and she exchanged her fiddle for a pipe and tabor. As she played, the children wove their swords into the six-pointed star that they would use for the symbolic execution of the Hunter King. At the appropriate moment, Legolas stepped forward, and the tallest of the children placed the star around his neck. As the Sword Dancers circled him, Legolas's heart began to beat faster. This part of the Masque had always made him uneasy. In previous years, when he had drummed for the dance, he had always been glad that he did not have to drum for the Sword Dance and could look away if he wished. But he did not have that luxury this year, and he stood tall and straight, bearing the weight of the star of swords.

The children's circle grew smaller and faster. When the music drove them so fast that they were almost running, they would stop, seize the grips of the swords, and pull the star apart. Legolas counted the beats of the music, readying himself for that moment. Precisely on their cue, the children stopped and grasped the swords. The girl standing directly in front of Legolas looked into his eyes and screamed.

Legolas started, and the other dancers crowded around the girl. Innil dropped her instruments and rushed over to them. Gently, she pushed the children aside and grasped the crying dancer's shoulders.

"Celebwen, what is wrong?" Innil asked. "Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Celebwen shook her head but continued to cry. The other children patted her back and shoulders and made soothing noises. Legolas removed the star of swords from his neck and took her hands. Celebwen made a mighty effort and choked back her tears.

"I – I am sorry," she said. "I did not mean to disrupt the rehearsal. But I could not pull the sword."

"You have done it before when we practiced," one of the boys pointed out.

Celebwen nodded. "Yes. But I did not have to look at Legolas then. It made me think of my brother Daintáro." She glanced at Legolas. "The Orcs killed him in the long battle," she explained.

The children nodded and murmured in agreement. Innil sighed and embraced Celebwen. Legolas tried to swallow a lump in his own throat. "I understand," he said softly. "This is a difficult part of the Masque, especially for someone who has lost someone they love."

Celebwen nodded and hid her face in Innil's shoulder. "I am sorry," she said again.

The corners of Innil's mouth quirked into a wry smile. "I think that we will do something different today," she said. "I think that you all know the Sword Dance very well, and I trust that you will continue to work on your parts until our next rehearsal. Perhaps we should spend our time today simply talking about what the Masque means and how it makes us feel. What do you think? Can I trust you to practice on your own if we do that?"

The children nodded. They and Innil and Legolas all sat on the floor in a circle. At first, no one spoke. But slowly, one by one, the children began to describe the battle and the fires that had raged through the settlement and destroyed their homes. Some of them wept a little, remembering homes or friends or family they had lost.

"My little sister wakes up in the middle of the night and wants to know when we can go home again," one boy said. "She does not understand that our old house is gone, and we live in a new one now."

"My house does not feel like my house," Celebwen said. "My brother is not there, and it does not feel safe. What if the Orcs come back? What will we do then?"

"They will not be nearly so dangerous now as they were before the War," Legolas assured her. "Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee made sure of that."

"My Ada says that he has only ever seen one Orc since the War ended," a girl volunteered. "He said that it was all alone and it ran away when it saw him, because it was frightened of him."

"We have peace now," Innil said, "but it came at a terrible price, and we do not yet know what to do with it. When I think of people I have lost, I comfort myself by remembering that they will live again, someday, across the Sea."

"But even if they do live again, they do not live here with us," Celebwen said. "That is not fair. Maybe they do not live again, either. Maybe that is just a story that grownups tell so that children will feel better. I have never seen any dead person return."

Legolas smiled at her. "I have. When we walked through the Dwarf mines of Moria, I saw Mithrandir fall to his death in battle with Durin's Bane, the Balrog who lived under the mines. And I saw him return in the forest of Fangorn"

The children considered this carefully. "Mithrandir is special," Celebwen said.

Legolas nodded, unable to deny her words. "He is special."

Celebwen sighed. "I wish there were a place where we could really be safe," she said. "I do not like to look at my brother's grave. It makes me think about Orcs, and that frightens me."

"Orcs make me angry," the smallest girl said. "That is what I think about when I have to pull the sword in the dance. I pretend that there is an Orc inside the star, and I can chop its head right off." She glanced at Legolas and blushed, but Legolas laughed.

"That is a clever idea," he said.

"Indeed it is," Innil said. She put her arm around Celebwen's shoulders. "Do you think you could try that?" she asked. "Imagine that Legolas is an Orc and not your brother?"

Celebwen looked dubious but intrigued. "I could try," she said. "Can we try it now? Just once?"

"If you want to, then certainly." Innil rose to her feet, and Legolas and the children followed her. They began the Sword Dance from the beginning, twisting through patterns, linked by their swords. As he watched them, Legolas considered Celebwen's wish for a land of peace and safety. Her pleas reminded him of Neldorín's longing for a safe place for Faron to grow up. Perhaps he could offer them a chance to see their dreams come true.

Yule arrived with a fresh, clean fall of snow. It delighted the children of the settlement, who rushed outside to play, reveling in the first snow of the season. The snow lightened the hearts of the adults as well, for it covered the burnt trees, ash heaps, and graves with a soft, white blanket. Once again, the forest looked whole, at least on the surface.

Inside the delvings, teams of Elves wove evergreen garlands to decorate the Great Hall, and Galion supervised the kitchen staff in cooking the Yule feast. As the shadows lengthened outside, parents collected their children so that they would have time to dry off and grow warm before the evening festival. In their little house in the trees, Arasiel stripped Faron of his wet play clothes and hung them before the hearth to dry. She debated for a few minutes, then fetched his nightclothes.

"Is it bedtime, Nana?" Faron asked.

"Not yet," Arasiel answered. "But you are going to stay with Mistress Doronrîn tonight, so you might as well put your nightclothes on now. That way, there will be one less set of clothes for her to look after." She pulled the soft tunic and trousers onto the child's body, then wrapped a cloak around him. She took him by the hand, and they set out along the walkways to the house where Doronrîn lived with Beleghir.

Doronrîn saw them coming and opened the door when they arrived. "Welcome, Faron," she said. "I see that you are all ready to spend the night. If you will let me take your cloak, you can go and play with the other children."

Faron looked up at Arasiel, and it suddenly dawned on him that his Nana meant to leave him. He clung to her leg and refused to move. "No, Nana!" he cried. "No leave!" Arasiel's hands fluttered in his general direction, and she looked almost as stricken as her son.

Doronrîn laughed and gently pried Faron loose, sweeping him up into her arms so that he could bid his mother farewell. "Do not worry about him, Arasiel," she said. "As soon as you are out of sight, he will discover the other children, and he will have a wonderful time."

Arasiel gulped. "I hope so. Thank you for caring for the small children tonight, Mistress Doronrîn. I am glad of the opportunity to see my husband dance tonight."

"It was just the thing to do," Doronrîn said. "Last year, Menellir danced as the Hunter King, and I do not think that I could face seeing the Masque again tonight. And someone needed to watch the children."

"I appreciate this deeply." Arasiel leaned over and kissed Faron. "Farewell for tonight, little one," she said. "Ada and I will come to pick you up tomorrow morning, and Ada will have a Yule gift for you then."

Then she steeled herself and walked away, Faron's horrified cries echoing in her ears. When she had gone far enough that Doronrîn's house was out of sight, she stopped and listened. Very faintly, she heard the sound of a small child beginning to giggle. Relieved, Arasiel continued toward the delvings.

In an antechamber off the Great Hall, the dancers were preparing themselves for the Masque. Legolas carefully covered his face with a glittering paint made of crushed beetle shells mixed with bear grease. Beside him, Neldorín adjusted his great horned headdress.

"I spoke to Arasiel about your proposal, Legolas," he said.

"What did she think?"

"She is considering it. It is a difficult choice. On the one hand, it is everything we wish for Faron, but on the other hand, neither of us has ever lived anywhere but here."

"Few people in this settlement have," Legolas said. "I had never passed the western edge of the forest until last year, with you. The world is much bigger and more varied than I could ever have imagined. Ithilien is a land of incredible beauty, but it cries out for the attention of the Elves."

Neldorín nodded. "It is also very close to Mordor. I do not know that I would be entirely comfortable moving my family there."

"Mordor was vanquished."

"I know. But it will take longer before I truly believe. I will discuss it with Arasiel further after the Masque, and we will consider it." Neldorín smiled. "You missed a spot beneath your eyes. Hold still."

Carefully, he swabbed the last of the paint onto Legolas's face. Legolas tucked a stray lock of Neldorín's hair beneath his headdress, and they both went in search of Innil so that she could inspect them.

Thranduil surveyed the Great Hall with a contented smile. Most of the settlement had crowded in to enjoy the Yule feast that preceded the Masque. Although the tables did not exactly groan with food, there was enough to eat, and that was already an improvement over last year. The guests at the feast were eating and drinking merrily. Some of the revelry might be a little too deliberate, but the Elves were making the effort to enjoy themselves.

Some had hinted to Thranduil that the Masque should not be held this year, that the wounds from the War were still too fresh and raw to admit such a return to the normal cycle of the year. Thranduil had considered their objections, but had declared that the Masque would be performed anyway. Mourning could not last forever, and he feared that, if the community gave up the tradition of the Masque this year, they might never regain it. Thranduil knew the power behind the ancient story and considered it too valuable to throw away in grief.

Watching the revelers, he knew that he had made the right choice. The performance tonight would not be an easy one. Each repetition called forth memories of past performances, and many who had danced before were now dead. Doronrîn was not the only person who had chosen to be absent that evening for fear of being overwhelmed by memories. But the hope and joy of the Masque's final scene, and the pleasures of dancing in the dawn afterward, would be reward enough for those who could bring themselves to witness the beauty and terror that came before it.

After the last morsel of food had been eaten, the waitstaff began to clear the tables, and the Elves moved to clear the dancing space at the center of the Great Hall. Thranduil signaled to Galion to alert the performers, and then turned his attention to arranging benches around the central circle. It did not take long before the Elves had rearranged the Great Hall to their satisfaction, and everyone had found a seat. Thranduil settled himself comfortably and prepared himself to enjoy the dance.

His heart surged as he watched Legolas dance, nearly unrecognizable beneath his glittering paint and gold headdress. He gloried in the power and grace of the Hunter King, meeting the challenge of the Stag and defeating him in the battle of wits between hunter and prey. He ached at the Hunter King's willing sacrifice, remembering not only Legolas's choice to accompany Frodo Baggins to Mordor, but also his people's willingness to stand at his side and resist the shadow that had nearly destroyed them. Finally, he rejoiced when the two maidens dancing as the Sun and the Rain raised the sacrificed Hunter to his feet, escorting him triumphantly around the circle so that he could greet the audience and draw them into the dance.

Legolas stretched out his hand, and Thranduil allowed himself to be pulled into the chain of bodies moving to the captivating rhythm of the music. He clasped his son's hand and was rewarded with a shout of laughter. Legolas seemed to Thranduil to be more alive than he had been in months, dancing as enthusiastically as if he had not just performed the central role of the Masque, beads of sweat streaking from beneath the headdress through the paint on his face.

Legolas turned to Thranduil, and Thranduil supposed that he must have appeared preoccupied, for Legolas's expression softened a little. "Do not worry, Ada," he said in a low voice that carried beneath the music and singing. "We will not neglect the Masque in Ithilien. We will perform it there and keep the tradition alive."

"I am glad of that," Thranduil said, although, in truth, he had not considered the question of how Legolas would celebrate Yule in a new land, far from home. But it was comforting to know that Legolas would carry the tradition with him. It was indeed as he had tried to assure both Legolas and himself; only distance would separate them. The important things, the bonds that mattered, would not be sundered.

So the Wood-elves danced and made merry all through the longest, darkest night of the year. On that night, something ended and something new began, and the Elves once again chose to look to the future with hope.


	8. Mending Fences

**8. Mending Fences**

Gimli reined his pony to a halt at the border of the forest and peered along the wooded path before him. A few more steps, and he would be under its eaves, traveling in the same place where his father had come to grief so many years before. Glóin had never been able to face the idea of going through Mirkwood again, and because of his father's reluctance, Gimli had traveled around the northern border during his move to Erebor and then again on his journey to the house of Elrond. But this was no longer Mirkwood, he reminded himself. It was – what was the name that appeared in the Elvenking's letters? – it was Eryn Lasgalen now, the Wood of Green Leaves, no longer under the Shadow that had darkened Glóin's first encounter with the Wood-elves.

He took a deep breath and continued along the path, below the branches, reminding himself that he came invited, with at least one friend who would greet him with welcome rather than indifference or hostility. Though the heavy snowdrifts soon dwindled to a light dusting, the forest did not look nearly as dark as Glóin had described it. Certainly, it seemed lighter and more wholesome than Fangorn. Gimli supposed that this was at least partially because it was winter, and the thick canopy of leaves had fallen from the trees.

But he remembered the tales of fire. His father's friend Bifur had told him that, when Mirkwood had burned, the smoke could be seen in Erebor. Thorin III had been astounded when Thranduil's messenger had arrived bearing a letter of greeting and celebratory gifts of fur and leather. He had been less astonished by the friendly tone of the greeting than by the implication that the Wood-elves had, in fact, survived the great fire.

Gimli chuckled to himself at the improbability of his current situation. The facts of the War had caused both Elves and Dwarves to reconsider their relationship somewhat. A year ago, Gimli had bristled at the thought of spending weeks of travel in the company of a Wood-elf. And now, not only was he traveling to the very cavern where his father had been held prisoner so many years earlier, he was actually looking forward to the visit, and to seeing his friend again. And, to complete the strange picture, he was whistling as he went.

He whistled a phrase, then drew in a breath. Before he could continue, a light voice sang the answering phrase back to him. Gimli halted his pony and looked around, a smile spreading across his face as he recognized the voice.

"I know that song," Legolas said from somewhere above Gimli's head.

Gimli peered into the branches and spied Legolas crouching on a limb above the path, slightly ahead of Gimli. He grinned at the Dwarf. "You sang it at the Yule celebration in Imladris."

Gimli smiled. "I am surprised that you remember it. That was long before you had any interest in my people's ways."

"I made sure to remember everything about the Yule feast. It was the last time of joy before we set out." Legolas dropped down from the tree, his long legs easily taking up the shock of landing. He crossed the distance between himself and Gimli in a few strides. "Welcome, my friend," he said happily, and allowed Gimli to wrap him in a strong embrace.

"It is good to see you again," Gimli said, when he released Legolas. "I had not expected you to come personally to escort me into your father's realm."

"Who better?" Legolas laughed. "I am able to go out with this border patrol, and my father and his advisors deemed it best that I be the one to greet Thorin's representative. I had hoped it would be you."

Gimli nodded. "As you yourself have said, who better?"

"True." Legolas glanced at Gimli's sturdy pony, which carried two saddlebags to supplement the pack that Gimli bore on his shoulders. "Is that all the baggage you have brought? If we need not wait for another pony, then we may continue on our way to the delvings."

"This is everything," Gimli said. "I have brought treaty drafts from Thorin and a few items for trade – nothing important, understand, they are mostly a show of good faith. But there is one item that I wish you to see now, before we go any further along this path."

Swiftly, Gimli shrugged off his pack and opened it. He removed an item carefully wrapped in a scrap of wool and packed on top so that it would not be damaged. He placed it in Legolas's hands. Legolas pulled back the wrapping, and his breath caught when he saw the object inside. After a moment, he looked at Gimli, his eyes shining.

"Oh, Gimli," he breathed. "You are a marvel. This cannot be a trade item."

"No," Gimli said. "It is a personal gift. Your letter moved me to create it. If it helps to smooth this diplomatic encounter, then that is well and good, but it was never intended as anything other than a gift."

Legolas carefully replaced the wrapping and handed the object back to Gimli. "I will ensure that you have an opportunity to present it, then. I think it will be very well received."

"Good. Then let us be underway."

Legolas led the way through the forest, locating the narrow paths seemingly without effort among the snow and underbrush. Gimli took advantage of the opportunity to study the forest.

It was old, he decided, but not nearly so venerable as Fangorn or as timeless as Lothlórien. Gimli did not feel that this forest was preserved; rather, it was a place of both death and renewal. That thought reassured him a little. He could understand it better than the strange, beautiful stasis of the other forests. Fangorn sheltered the Ents, so ancient and slow that Gimli could not begin to fathom their thoughts. Lothlórien held the Lady, one whom he would always love fiercely, but from a distance, as the roughest coal miner might love the wife of Durin himself. Mirkwood – no, Eryn Lasgalen now – was the home of Legolas, with whom he could laugh and debate endlessly until the sun rose, a valiant warrior who nevertheless became mildly nauseous at the smell of pipeweed.

"The settlement is not far away," Legolas said suddenly.

Gimli looked up, startled from his reverie. Then he remembered his position as Thorin's ambassador. "Is there anything I should know before we reach it?" he asked. "I do not wish to make an ill impression upon the Elvenking."

Legolas smiled. "I think you will not," he said. "You have proved yourself courteous and gracious. My father is expecting polite discourse, and he will be pleased when I announce your identity. I have told him much about you, and I think he is well disposed towards you."

Gimli had known Legolas long enough to tell that there was more to come. "But?" he said. "That is not all that you have to say on this matter."

"No. It is not." Legolas's smile faded, and his expression grew serious. "My father is well disposed towards you," he said, "but that does not hold true for everyone you will meet. Many have never met a Dwarf, or remember only the Battle of Five Armies. They may not be so kindly, and you will have to win them to you. And there are those among my people who do not like Dwarves at all. My father's seneschal Luindil is one of those, and you will most likely meet him today."

"I see." Gimli stroked his beard thoughtfully. "And what would you advise me to do with Luindil?"

"Be polite and courteous, but do not push him. He will respect you as a foreign embassy, but do not expect any more kindness than that. This meeting will be difficult enough for him."

Gimli nodded, sobered. He had heard Legolas speak of Luindil with great affection, and he did not want to antagonize someone his friend cared about so deeply. He hoped that he would be able to avoid that, though now it seemed much more difficult than he had anticipated.

They crossed the wooden bridge, and Gimli beheld the large, ornately carved wooden doors that led into the halls of the Elvenking. The guards at the doors bowed, and the doors opened without apparent aid. A thrill went up Gimli's spine. Glóin had spoken truly; these were indeed magical doors. He dismounted, and two Elves approached, speaking in their own dialect. Legolas listened to them and turned to Gimli.

"They will house your pony in our stables and bear your belongings to the chamber prepared for you," he said. "You will be free to inspect either place after you have met with my father."

The Elves led Gimli's pony away, and Legolas escorted him through the entrance halls. Despite his nervousness, Gimli could not help admiring the delicacy of the walls, carved with filigreed arches clearly meant to represent trees. Whoever had created these caves had had some skill; they were well ventilated, and the air was fresh and sweet.

Legolas stopped before another set of elaborately carved doors and pulled a rope that hung beside them. Gimli heard a bell ring on the other side. Slowly, the doors swung open, revealing the Great Hall, where King Thranduil waited to receive him. The Elvenking sat on a carved wooden chair, smaller than Gimli had expected, upon a low dais. He was robed in deep green, and a crown of holly and evergreen was upon his head. A tall attendant stood beside the chair, and Gimli guessed that this must be Luindil. Both Elves regarded him neutrally.

Legolas strode forward. "My Lord," he said in the Common Tongue, "It is my honor to present Gimli, son of Glóin, embassy of Thorin III, King of the Dwarves of Erebor, who seeks audience."

Gimli took a deep breath, marched up to the dais and bowed low. "Gimli, son of Glóin, at your service," he said, enunciating each word.

The Elvenking graciously inclined his head. "Thranduil, son of Oropher, at yours and your family's."

Gimli straightened, surprised to hear Thranduil's words.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "That is the proper response, is it not?"

"It is, your Majesty," Gimli said. "I had not expected you to know it."

Thranduil smiled at him. "I have been extensively tutored," he said, gesturing at Legolas. Legolas blushed a little, and Gimli and Thranduil both laughed. Much of Gimli's nervousness drained away, though he could still feel Luindil's eyes upon him.

"I bear greetings from Thorin III, King Under the Mountain," Gimli said. "He greets you as one Lord to his fellow, and sends his wish that the Mountain and the Wood might draw a lesson from their respective victories in battle, and forge an alliance that will stand both parties in good stead in the Age to come."

Thranduil nodded. "It is a laudable goal, though it will not be easy to overcome the obstacles that stand before it. However, the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen stand ready to consider Thorin's proposals."

"I have brought drafts of proposed treaties with me, and I also bear letters granting me authority to treat with Eryn Lasgalen on behalf of the Mountain. I also bear certain small items for trade, as a show of Erebor's riches."

"That is kind of you." Thranduil glanced at Legolas and at Luindil. "Then I propose that we begin negotiations tomorrow morning, when you have refreshed yourself after your journey. Do you require anything else before then?"

Gimli took a deep breath. "Yes, my Lord," he said. "I request a meeting with one Faron, son of Neldorín. I bear a personal message for him."

Luindil's breath hitched, and his eyes widened. Thranduil went completely still, and his eyes bored into Gimli. Gimli nearly took a step backward, but caught himself and held his ground.

"Faron is a very small child, Master Gimli," Thranduil said. "Are you certain that he is the one you wish to see?"

"He is."

Luindil bent down and spoke in a low voice into Thranduil's ear, too softly for Gimli to make out what he said. Thranduil frowned, then responded equally quietly. The debate continued for a few moments, and Gimli felt his heart begin to sink. At his side, Legolas bent down and whispered in his ear.

" It is an unusual request, and Luindil is concerned for Faron's safety. Do not be offended; they would have the same concerns if it had been Aragorn who had asked."

Gimli was not entirely sure he believed that, especially about Luindil, but he held his tongue. Legolas straightened and approached the dais.

"My Lords," he said. "I propose that the three of us accompany Gimli to see Faron. I will vouch for his honest intent, and you may witness it yourselves as well."

Thranduil glanced at Luindil and nodded. "That would appear to be the best solution," he said, and rose from his chair. "Come. We will go to the house of Neldorín now, without delay."

Thranduil, Luindil, and Legolas escorted Gimli through the network of swaying walkways suspended in the trees. Gimli held tightly to the side ropes and willed himself not to look down. Something wobbled beneath his feet, and he grimaced. At least the Elves could see that he posed no threat to Faron here in the treetops.

The party stopped at one of the tree houses, and Luindil knocked on the door. An Elf opened it, and his mouth fell open with surprise.

"Greetings, Neldorín," Thranduil said lightly. "May I present Gimli, son of Glóin, embassy of Erebor. He wishes to visit Faron."

Neldorín stared at the party for a moment in shock. Then he turned to Legolas and spoke rapidly in his own tongue. Gimli realized that Thranduil had addressed Neldorín in the Common Tongue primarily for his benefit. Neldorín did not appear to be well versed in the Common Tongue, and Gimli wondered how he would communicate with the child.

Legolas appeared to have satisfied enough of Neldorín's initial curiosity, and Neldorín ushered them inside the tree house. Gimli eased his pack from his shoulders as Neldorín called into the other room. A slender Elf-woman appeared, her brown hair twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. A little hand clutched her gray linen skirt, but the rest of the child was hidden.

"This is Arasiel, Neldorín's wife," Legolas said. "Faron seems to be a little shy at the moment."

Gimli bowed deeply. "I am honored to meet you, Arasiel," he said. "I come from Erebor, and I bear a gift for your son."

Legolas translated Gimli's words to Arasiel. She nodded and knelt down, revealing a small child with a mop of brown curls. Faron peered anxiously at Gimli as Arasiel spoke softly to him. Neldorín glanced dubiously at Gimli, but held his peace. Finally, Arasiel prodded Faron, and Faron turned to look at Gimli, both captivated and terrified by his long beard. Gimli opened his pack and retrieved the item he had shown Legolas.

"I heard that you lost something dear to you in the fire," Gimli said, and waited for Legolas to translate. Legolas nodded, and Gimli continued. "I have also heard that you have been a very brave little boy, and so I have come all the way from the Lonely Mountain with a present for you." He offered Faron the package. Faron glanced at his mother, and Arasiel nodded to him.

Faron hesitated only a moment before he took the present from Gimli's hands and opened the wrapping, revealing a shiny new tin cup. For a moment, his mouth was perfectly round with surprise, and then he squealed with delight. He chattered rapidly to Arasiel and Neldorín, alternately waving the tin cup before him and clutching it to his chest. Neldorín laughed, as much with relief as with joy. Arasiel caught Faron's arm and whispered in his ear. Faron flung his arms around Gimli, burrowing into the thick beard.

Gimli patted the child's back and looked up to see the Elves trading expressions of relief and pleasure. Legolas grinned at him. "That was well done, Gimli," he said. "You have made a friend here."

Faron lifted up a corner of Gimli's beard and held it to his own face, earning laughter from his parents. Neldorín bowed to Gimli and spoke haltingly in the Common Tongue.

"I thank you, Gimli Dwarf," he said slowly. "Faron, he have tin cup before, love much. Destroy in fire, he mourn cup. Now, new cup, thank Gimli Dwarf."

Gimli bowed in return, detached Faron from his beard, and handed him back to Neldorín. Faron squealed and waved his cup. Arasiel fetched a pitcher of water and filled the cup, then they all sat and watched as Faron drank the water, his bright eyes shining over the rim. Arasiel then offered food and drink to the visiting adults, but Thranduil declined the offer.

"We arrived unannounced, and Arasiel and Neldorín may not have the means to prepare dinner for all of us at the moment," Legolas explained. "However, I think that you will be invited to dine with them ere you leave here."

"You will come with me, I hope? They do not appear to have much command of languages other than Elvish, and I have as yet mastered only a few words of that tongue."

"I will come with you," Legolas said. Then, an impish smile spread across his face. "Of course, it would be amusing to send you alone . . . but then I would not be able to see the fun."

Gimli rolled his eyes at that but did not have time to answer back. Thranduil was conferring with Luindil, and the two of them rose and spoke to Neldorín and Arasiel in formal tones. Legolas stood as well, and Gimli followed suit, realizing that they were about to take their leave of the couple. Neldorín and Arasiel both bowed deeply to Gimli, thanking him for his kindness. Faron attached himself to Gimli's side, and Arasiel had to pry him away.

So they left the tree house and set off along the walkways again. Gimli found it easier to navigate them now that he was prepared for their motion, and he was able to pay more attention to his hosts.

"Faron was quite taken with you," Thranduil observed. "He has never seen a creature with a beard before."

Gimli remembered the times he had spent in Lake Town, where the children had stared, unable to disguise their curiosity at one who was not much taller than they were, yet who sported such a luxurious growth of beard. He had felt their eyes boring into him, singling him out as one who was to be watched. And yet, for all that Faron was a Wood-elf, Gimli found that he had enjoyed that child's clinging, exploratory approach. Given a choice, Gimli realized that he preferred to be thought of as a toy rather than as an oddity.

"Faron is a charming child," he said. "I am honored to have met him. I do not believe I have yet encountered Elf-children. This will be a tale to be passed down through my House, how a Dwarf was permitted to hold a child of the Elves."

Legolas snorted. "I will be sure to tell Arasiel that you said that. It will surely amuse her when she is trying to keep this legendary child clean and out of trouble."

Gimli would have laughed at that image if he had not been concentrating on not falling off the walkway. But he did manage to glimpse up at his companions. Luindil had not said a word since they had left the tree house. But Gimli noticed that the tight set of his shoulders had eased just a little, and a small smile played at the corner of his mouth.


	9. The Wood And The Mountain

**9. The Wood And The Mountain**

Gimli found negotiations with the Wood-elves to be much more challenging than he had anticipated. He had never deceived himself that he would be able to build a bridge between the two peoples in a day, but he realized that there was much about the Elves that he had not fully considered. Among them were Thranduil's age and the length of his memory. Events that were ancient history to Gimli remained alive in Thranduil's memory and still influenced his thoughts. And, as if that were not enough, Luindil was even older, and remembered the court of Thingol clearly. In the face of such age, Gimli struggled to keep the conversation focused on the present and the recent past.

Gimli made sure to keep his expression pleasantly neutral as he faced Thranduil across a table in one of Thranduil's strategy chambers. "They are venerable elders of Erebor, my Lord," he said. "You must understand that the honor of the surviving companions of Thorin Oakenshield is as much a part of my people's life as the respect we pay to the current King Under the Mountain. And the companions of Thorin Oakenshield require compensation for their treatment in your halls."

Thranduil regarded Gimli coolly. "I have offered to send letters of apology. Do they require compensation in goods as well?"

"Dwarves are not Elves. An Elf may subsist on beautifully arranged words, but a Dwarf requires substance."

"They demand weregild from me, then."

Gimli blinked, startled by Thranduil's directness. "Yes. That is what they wish. If they can be satisfied, they will use their influence to turn the will of Erebor towards friendship with Eryn Lasgalen."

Thranduil conferred briefly with Luindil. Gimli could not be certain, but he suspected that the two Elves were not in complete agreement. Finally, Thranduil turned back to Gimli. "I am not certain that we possess any goods that would satisfy them. I have a small treasury, but your elders already possess more beautiful gems in Erebor. Much of our wealth was destroyed, and we have not yet regained it. I do not see how we could pay such a weregild as your elders would demand."

Gimli shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For many years, he had listened as Glóin and his former companions had debated the kind of compensation they wished from the Elvenking. They had never reached a firm conclusion, because no one had ever believed that the Elvenking would ever consider offering such payment. "They have always claimed that they wanted payment in keeping with their suffering," Gimli offered. As he spoke, he saw sparks flare in Luindil's eyes, and he knew that he had made a mistake.

"In keeping with their suffering?" Luindil asked. He leaned forward and stared directly at Gimli. "What suffering shall we compensate? The shares of Smaug's treasure that they lost? They lost none. The lives they lost in the Battle of Five Armies? We have more than paid that, life for life. The time they spent in the delvings? We gave up food from our own stores to feed them during that time when they would otherwise have starved in the forest. Do not forget, they brought their imprisonment upon themselves by trespassing upon our folk!"

"Peace, Luindil." Thranduil laid a hand on Luindil's arm, and Luindil sat back, his eyes still smoldering. Gimli bit back the angry reply he had been about to make. Thranduil noticed his effort and nodded in acknowledgement. "My apologies, Gimli," he said. "My seneschal spoke in haste, though I admit that his words are not without merit. If I could be certain which sufferings your elders would see repaid, I might be able to determine the best manner of payment."

Gimli could think of no adequate response in that moment, and Thranduil sighed. "The hour grows late," he said, "and I think we have all grown weary of these negotiations. Let us end our session for today, and resume tomorrow with fresh hearts."

"That is an excellent idea," Gimli said with relief. He sat back and heaved a great sigh. Thranduil nodded to Luindil, and Luindil rose from his seat, sketched a hasty bow, and left the room. Gimli felt himself relaxing, and Thranduil smiled at him.

"I can see that Luindil's presence agitates you," Thranduil said. "Nevertheless, you have remained remarkably collected, and I commend you for that. If it would ease you, know that Luindil bears you no personal ill will."

"Thank you," Gimli said, puzzled.

Thranduil stood and bowed to Gimli, then left the negotiation chamber. Gimli rubbed his eyes and considered what to do with himself. As he was thinking, Legolas came in.

"Greetings," he said. "How did the negotiations go today?"

"We spent much time discussing appropriate restitution for the incident involving Thorin Oakenshield," Gimli replied. "There is no resolution in sight on that issue, I fear. I confess that I dread the possibility of dredging up encounters from the more distant past."

Legolas laughed a little at that. "I believe that my father wishes to spend this time discussing the future rather than the distant past."

"But Luindil may not." Gimli sighed. "Your presence would have been most welcome today."

"If it would please you, I will speak to my father about it," Legolas said, "though I do not believe it will do much good. Someone must carry out his daily tasks while he is occupied here, after all. My father does not wish to involve me in the negotiations so that none can accuse him of allowing my personal friendship with you to influence the talks. Since I cannot attend them, I am the logical choice to handle the courts in his absence."

That was true, and Gimli had accepted it, though it did not make the prospect of several days in the company of Thranduil and Luindil any less terrifying. "You are correct, of course," he said. "I will content myself with spending time with you in the evenings."

"I hope that you are hungry," Legolas said, brightening. "Neldorín and Arasiel have extended an invitation to us to join them for dinner this evening. They are very curious about you."

Gimli smiled at that. Curiosity already seemed to be a vast improvement over suspicion and diplomatic remove.

An hour later, Legolas and Gimli approached their destination. Gimli was pleased that he had managed to negotiate the walkways in the evening dark without incident. "You are learning," Legolas observed. "Balance dwells in your knees; remember that, and you will soon walk through the trees as easily as we do."

Gimli was able to concentrate on his knees for nearly half a minute as Legolas knocked at the door and greeted Arasiel when she opened it. Then there was a shriek of "Gimli!" and Faron raced forward with his arms held out. Arasiel grabbed at his collar, but her fingers closed on air as Faron leaped to embrace Gimli and examine the fascinating beard. Gimli staggered under the unexpected force, but recovered quickly, laughing at his predicament.

"Surely this must be the only time an Elf has greeted a Dwarf so enthusiastically," he said. Legolas translated his remark to Arasiel, and they both laughed. Arasiel bowed, and ushered them into the house, a gesture that needed no translation. Neldorín was bringing bowls of fragrant stew to the table, but rushed to pry Faron away from Gimli.

"Faron, he like you," Neldorín said with a smile. "You be cautious, or you be – be –" he consulted briefly with Legolas – " new toy, yes, you be new toy of Faron."

"Never!" Gimli cried, striking a pose of exaggerated defensiveness. Faron dissolved into helpless giggles, and Neldorín gestured for them all to sit down to eat.

Gimli was astonished at how easily the meal progressed. It was amazing, he thought, that conversation with two Elves who spoke almost none of the Common Tongue, and relied on Legolas to translate, should be so much easier than speaking freely with Thranduil and Luindil at the negotiation table. Neldorín and Arasiel were very interested in Gimli's plans to bring a contingent of Dwarves south to Gondor to repair the walls of Minas Tirith and settle near the Glittering Caves. They asked many questions about Minas Tirith, the surrounding countryside, and Ithilien.

Gimli answered their questions as best he could. At one point, Arasiel turned to Neldorín and began to confer with him in their own language. Legolas took the opportunity and turned to Gimli. "I have asked them to consider moving to Ithilien with me in the spring," he explained. "They are concerned about finding a safe place to raise Faron, and they are glad to hear another opinion of the land beside my own."

Gimli considered that. "Do you think I have managed to sway them one way or the other?"

"You have certainly begun to sway Arasiel. She likes the idea of a wild land free of spiders and ash heaps. Neldorín is still uncertain, however."

Neldorín turned to Gimli again. "I thank you for stories," he said. "Is much to think on."

He rose to prepare a pot of tea. Faron, having eaten his fill, slithered down from his chair and came to Gimli's side, placing tiny hands on Gimli's leg and looking up with a hopeful expression. Gimli glanced at Arasiel for permission, then allowed Faron to climb onto his lap. Faron leaned against him and buried his hands in Gimli's beard.

When Neldorín came to pour the tea, he considered the sight of his son cuddled in the arms of a Dwarf, then said something to Legolas. Legolas nodded and turned to Gimli. "Neldorín is surprised at how much he likes you," he said. "His first encounter with Dwarves was at the Battle of Five Armies, and he has been wary of them ever since. But you have begun to alter his views, especially since you have been so kind to Faron."

Gimli smiled at that. It was a measure of how much the Quest had affected him, he decided, that the easing of a Wood-elf's heart should mean so much to him.

After they had visited for a while, Legolas and Gimli returned to the delvings. Gimli felt himself in need of a pipe and some time to consider everything that he had seen and heard, so Legolas directed him to a sheltered pavilion, where he could sit away from the snow, and where his smoke would be less distressing than inside.

Gimli seated himself on a sawn log, filled his pipe, and moved to lift a candle from the lantern to light it. As he did so, he became aware that he was not alone, and looked around, his eyes wide with the effort to see in the darkness. At last, he saw Luindil standing in a corner, his breath cloudy in the cold air, his eyes glittering in the lantern light. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, Gimli noticed something that struck him with the force of a hammer blow. It was subtle enough that, if Gimli had not spent so much time in the company of Elves recently, he would not have noticed it. But the memory of his visit with Neldorín and Arasiel prompted him to look more closely at Luindil, and he saw something that he would never have expected from the seneschal of the Elvenking. Luindil was afraid of him.

This was a new idea, and Gimli was not entirely certain what to do with it. He puffed at his pipe, and then thought better of it. "Does the smoke from my pipe disturb you?" he asked Luindil. "I can extinguish it."

Luindil blinked, as if he had not been expecting the question, then shook his head. "Legolas told me that you have this habit," he said. "Mithrandir would sometimes come here to indulge when he visited us."

Gimli took another puff, then turned his head to blow the smoke away from Luindil. "You need not lurk in the darkness. You are welcome to sit here with me. I will endeavor not to blow my smoke at your face."

Luindil remained where he was, watching Gimli silently. Gimli took a deep breath, then ventured, "The Mountain means no harm to the Wood. . . and I mean no harm to you."

At that, Luindil flowed silently from the shadow into the lamplight. "Can you possibly understand?" he hissed. "Have you any idea of the memories that the sight of you calls forth in me? Of what I lost because of your kin?"

Gimli opened his mouth, then shut it again. "No," he admitted. "Tell me."

"You do not want to hear my tale."

"That is likely true. But perhaps I must hear it."

Luindil squatted before Gimli, and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Perhaps I do not wish to speak of it in full. Perhaps the pain is too great."

Gimli sighed. "Then we are at an impasse. You continue to hold this grudge against me, yet you will not even explain what it is about."

There was silence for a long moment. "I never cheated a Dwarf," Luindil said at last, forcing the words through his teeth. "Never in my life have I ever done that. Yet my family, the people I loved, suffered and died in Menegroth for a crime that I did not commit."

Gimli's heart sank. He had been afraid that the affair of Thingol and the Silmaril would come up sooner or later. "Even the Dwarves do not accuse all Elves in that incident," he ventured.

"Then why did my parents die at the hands of attacking Dwarves?" Luindil cried. "The Dwarves suspected Thingol, and they killed him. That was bad enough, but what crime had my mother and father ever committed against them? I had never laid eyes on that cursed jewel. Why was I forced to see my betrothed lady killed as she fled Menegroth?" His face twisted in grief and rage.

Gimli did not know where to look. He had heard the story of the Elvenking who had refused to pay for the metalworking services of the Dwarves ever since he was very young, and it had always been the first story told whenever the subject of Elves came up among the Dwarves. Gimli had never thought much about the subsequent destruction of Menegroth other than to be vaguely pleased that the Dwarves had won, long ago. He had certainly never expected to sit before a survivor of that battle who still mourned kin lost during a time of legend.

He glanced back at Luindil and discovered that the Elf had brought himself under control once more, though his glare was not quite as stony as it had been. "My apologies," Luindil said. "I should not have spoken so freely to a guest such as yourself."

"No," Gimli replied. "I do not mind. I am sorry to hear of what befell you in Menegroth, and I grieve for your loss even as I would grieve for the families of the Dwarves who also met their end in those caves. That is one of the reasons that I have come here, to ensure that such misunderstandings do not happen again between our peoples."

"I know that." Luindil rose to his feet and moved a few steps away from Gimli. He looked away, as if to hide whatever emotions lurked behind his eyes.

Gimli took a deep breath, then ventured a guess. "I suspect that we have something in common, you and I. We both care deeply for Legolas."

Luindil whirled to face Gimli, glaring at him as if daring him to continue. Gimli held his ground. "I have not known him nearly as long as you have, but he is my friend, and I will neither see him hurt nor be the cause of that hurt, if I can possibly help it."

"See that you do not." Luindil bowed stiffly to Gimli, then vanished into the night. Gimli sat back on his log and finished his pipe, more than a little shaken by the encounter.

He entered the negotiation chamber the next morning to find Thranduil waiting with a strange Elf at his side. Luindil was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, Gimli took his seat.

"Good morning, Gimli," Thranduil said. "Luindil came to me last night and asked to recuse himself from these proceedings, for he did not believe that his presence would aid matters. In his stead, I would present Inglor, the captain of my guard."

Inglor inclined his head. "Greetings, Gimli son of Glóin."

"Is Inglor acceptable to you?" Thranduil asked.

Gimli nodded. "Yes, of course." He turned to Inglor. "Please, forgive my boldness, but I am curious. You are the captain of the guard? Were you the one who --?"

Inglor laughed and shook his head. "No. You are thinking of Menellir, my predecessor."

"Oh." Gimli considered that information. "Might I ask. . . ?" He let his question trail off into the air.

"Menellir is dead," Thranduil said. The lightness had vanished from his demeanor, and his expression was unreadable. "Shall we begin our session today?"

Chastened, Gimli nodded and reached for his notes.

The negotiations lasted only a few more days. By the time that both Thranduil and Gimli felt that they had talked sufficiently, they had established a diplomatic channel between Erebor and Eryn Lasgalen that would permit communication to be exchanged directly, saving the fuss of using the Men of Lake Town as go-betweens. They had left the issue of weregild open, after Inglor had observed that that could be considered a private issue between Thranduil and the companions of Thorin. Both Gimli and Thranduil had agreed, happy to have an excuse not to discuss that incident any more than they had to.

Gimli saddled his pony to return home, feeling deeply satisfied at what he had accomplished. He paused and touched the crystal case containing the three precious hairs from Lady Galadriel's head that hung from a chain around his neck. It had been for her sake that he had met Legolas with friendship, and he felt that he owed the success of these negotiations to her through that friendship. He strapped his saddlebags in place, then swung his pack onto his shoulders. It contained letters and treaties from Thranduil to Thorin, as well as goods in exchange for the tokens of the Mountain that Gimli had brought.

Light footsteps sounded nearby, and Gimli looked up to see Legolas approaching, leading a horse of his own. "I have come to accompany you to the edge of the forest," Legolas said. "We do not know if the path is clear to one who is not an Elf, and we do not wish to have any more Dwarves running lost through the wood."

Gimli chuckled at that. "That is a wise decision," he said. Then he grew thoughtful. "I do not know if I will be able to return here before I set out for Gondor."

"I will be doing the same with the coming of Spring, as soon as the roads are dry enough to travel," Legolas said. "Perhaps we will meet each other along the way."

"I would like that." Gimli mounted his pony and prepared to set off. Just as he turned his pony's head to the road, he heard a shriek, and turned to look.

Faron was running towards Gimli as fast as his little legs could carry him, with Arasiel close at his side. Gimli and Legolas waited for them to arrive. Faron stood gazing up at Gimli and panting while Arasiel spoke to Legolas. When she had finished, she bowed deeply to Gimli.

"They wish to say farewell," Legolas told Gimli. "Neldorín is out on patrol at the moment, but he sends his regards as well. And I believe that Faron has a gift for you."

Faron held up a limp, twice-scraped piece of parchment. Gimli took it and unfolded it. There was a charcoal drawing of a figure that was clearly meant to be himself as Faron saw him. The Dwarf in the drawing had broad shoulders, an enormous, shaggy beard, and a broad smile on his face. In one hand, he held an axe, and in the other was a cup. Gimli smiled, rolled the drawing, and carefully stowed it in the top of his pack, where the tin cup had rested. He leaned down and ruffled Faron's curls, then turned to Legolas.

"Tell her that I hope to see them again in the Spring, on the road to Gondor," he said. "They are just the people that Ithilien needs."

Legolas translated his words, and Arasiel blushed. She took Faron's hand and kept him out of the way as the horse and pony moved off. As he left the Elvish settlement, Gimli turned back for one last glance. Faron was bouncing on his toes waving at him. Gimli waved back, then turned to follow Legolas on the road.


	10. And You Shall Be A Blessing

**10. And You Shall Be A Blessing**

Thranduil kept Legolas close at his side for the next two months. Legolas attended him when he held court in the Great Hall and when he sat in council meetings. Occasionally, Thranduil would ask Legolas to deal with some of the issues that came before him, and then report back on the decisions that he had made. Legolas performed these duties willingly, but occasionally choked back pangs of nervousness. He knew that Thranduil was training him to lead the settlement he intended to found in Ithilien.

Much of the activity in the council meetings involved plans for that settlement. Legolas had decided that the land was rich enough to support tended gardens as well as hunting and foraging. He met with representatives from Lake Town and arranged to purchase seeds of hardy plants that would grow well in the fertile, wild land. He traded both furs and some gold from the treasury for the seeds, and listened carefully as the Men advised him on how to plant and tend them properly.

By this time, all the Elves in the settlement had heard about Legolas's plans for Ithilien, and they spent hours debating among themselves about who would leave Eryn Lasgalen to follow him. Many Elves approached Legolas and asked questions about the land, and Legolas did his best to answer these honestly. Though it would be much safer than before, the journey south would not be easy. They would arrive in a beautiful country, but it would be utterly wild, requiring much hard work to build homes and settle there.

Some Elves were excited at the prospect of adventure, and relished the chance to reclaim lands that Sauron had long dominated. Others wished to travel to a new country and leave behind memories of seemingly endless Shadow and death. Many were not willing to leave Eryn Lasgalen at all, for they had just spent months rebuilding that settlement and were not anxious to build another one so soon.

Neldorín was the first one to commit himself wholly to the journey. "Arasiel now sees this land in her dreams," he told Legolas. "She is bound and determined that Faron should grow up there, away from the spiders and the memory of shadow that still clings to this place. And I confess that I would like to travel again. I still regret that I never made it to Imladris."

Legolas smiled wryly. "I regret it, too," he said. "I would have appreciated your company."

"We will make a land that is just as beautiful as that one," Neldorín said. "We will have our own protected valley with abundant fields and orchards."

"Will you serve as captain of the guard?" Legolas asked. "I will need trusted friends at my side, and I can think of none better than you."

Neldorín bowed. "I would be honored to serve."

Not all decisions were so easily made, however, and the debate consumed many long winter evenings. A few people approached Thranduil directly to ask why he had allowed Legolas to go ahead with his plan to divide the community that had survived so much only by virtue of its unity. To these questions, Thranduil answered that Legolas would take none with him who were not willing to go, and that any of the Ithilien settlers would be welcome to return to Eryn Lasgalen whenever they wished.

"Ours is not the only land that needs healing," he said. "If this War has taught me nothing else, I have learned that we cannot stand forever alone in the world. We have aided others before. Through this new settlement, we will continue that tradition, offering our aid further afield, to others in need." This argument did not immediately convince everyone of the value of settling Ithilien, but it did provide fuel for the debates.

Even as Legolas prepared to depart, life in the settlement continued. Beleghir and Tinwen often walked together through the woods, huddling close together to share warmth in the cold winter air, they claimed. Their friends teased them gently, joking that the chills of winter made the flame of love seem warmer than it really was. At first, Tinwen did not know what to think of the jokes. But when Beleghir threw a snowball at Thônion after Thônion had snuck up on them kissing in a glade, the young Elves laughed merrily and congratulated Beleghir on his aim. Thônion laughed loudest of all, and Tinwen began to enjoy the teasing as a sign of her acceptance into the community.

One evening, they went to a little glade not far from the river. Wrapping themselves in furs, they sat together under the shelter of the tightly laced branches, alternately kissing and talking about their plans for their life together. By the time Tinwen felt the need to stretch her legs and wandered out of the glade, she discovered that the sun had risen.

Beleghir laughed at that. "So we have talked the night away without knowing it," he said. "This can be nothing but a sign."

"I hope that it is a good sign," Tinwen murmured.

"It is a very good sign," Beleghir assured her. When they returned to the settlement later that morning, amid knowing looks and good-natured jibes, Beleghir sat down and began to compose a letter of introduction to Tinwen's parents in Lothlórien.

"You need not fear," Tinwen said. "I cannot imagine that they will refuse us permission to become betrothed."

"All the same, I imagine that they would appreciate some forewarning of that event and the opportunity to hear from me personally," Beleghir replied. "After all, you have not returned to them since you came to us in the spring. If nothing else, they will be relieved to hear that all is well with their daughter."

"All is indeed well," Tinwen said. She kissed Beleghir and took the quill from him to add her own words to his letter.

Unable to carry the letter himself because of his duties as a patrol captain, Beleghir would entrust the delivery to no one but Thônion, his sister's husband. As it was the first time in many centuries that a letter was to go from Eryn Lasgalen to Lothlórien, Thônion's errand caused a stir of interest and speculation among the Wood-elves. Thônion spent hours poring over old maps of the southern part of the forest, sketching details for later reference. Saelind packed clothes and food for her husband's journey, unable to hide all of her anxiety. Thônion's route would take him past the remains of Dol Guldur, the source of the Shadow that had plagued the Elves for so long.

"Give my greetings to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, if you have an opportunity to see them," Thranduil told him. "But do not risk your life unduly for this letter. If there is a threat along the way, turn back, and we will find another way to communicate with Tinwen's parents."

"Thank you, my Lord," Thônion said. "But I do not anticipate much trouble. Lord Celeborn himself reported that Dol Guldur has been thrown down, and Tinwen must have passed by the area when she came to us."

"That is true," Thranduil acknowledged. "Nonetheless, use caution on your journey. An impending betrothal should not be marred by injury to the messenger."

Despite her pleasure in her son's newfound joy, Doronrîn's health began a slow, steady decline. She spent hours sitting by her window, unable to muster the will even to eat. Her hair lost its sheen and grew dry and brittle, and her bones showed ever more prominently beneath her skin. Beleghir, Saelind, and her daughter Merilin tried ever more desperately to interest Doronrîn in food or visiting or in the herbs that she had studied and gathered for so many years. Doronrîn seemed to enjoy the presence of her son, daughter, and granddaughter, but could not move herself to do more than that.

"It is as if she sits behind a wall of glass," Saelind told Beleghir one evening. "She is present, and yet not present at the same time."

"She is fading," Beleghir said. "She has struggled valiantly throughout the winter, but it seems that her spirit is losing the fight."

Saelind sighed and held Merilin close. "Must we lose her now, after such a valiant struggle?"

Beleghir sighed. "Spring will come soon. And then it will be one year since –"

"No!" Merilin cried. "Do not say it! Grandmother will hear."

"It will make no difference, Merilin," Saelind said. "Whether we say it or not, she knows that your grandfather died in the spring."

"I miss Grandfather," Merilin said. "I do not want to think about losing Grandmother as well."

Beleghir took her hands. "None of us do. But I think we must prepare ourselves for it, whether we will or no. Your grandmother has seen much in her life. She loved your grandfather since they were both children. They raised your mother and me, and saw their granddaughter grow into a beautiful young lady. Is it any wonder that she does not wish to be parted from him?"

"Do you think that she will – " Merilin gulped. "That she will die when it has been a year since Grandfather died?"

"It is possible," came Doronrîn's voice from the window. Saelind, Merilin, and Beleghir all rushed to her side.

A little spark flickered in Doronrîn's eyes as she looked at them. "I have not lost my hearing, after all," she said. Then her expression softened, and her eyes began to cloud again. "I do not know what will become of me. I wish to see my son find his joy, but my husband calls to me . . . " Her voice trailed off, and her head bowed.

Saelind took Doronrîn's face in her hands and looked closely at her. "She has fallen asleep."

Beleghir gently lifted his mother in his arms and carried her away to her bed. Saelind and Merilin watched him go. Merilin sat down heavily in Doronrîn's chair.

"Is that how she will go?" she asked. "Will she fall asleep one day and never wake?"

Saelind shrugged. "It might be the kindest thing for her."

Merilin stared at her mother in disbelief, and then her face crumpled. Saelind embraced her even as her heart ached for both her mother and her daughter.

Legolas was in the council chamber with Galion, working on a list of supplies for the journey, when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," he called. He looked up and saw Celebwen, who had danced in the Masque, standing with her mother and her father. "Welcome," he said. "Please, enter. What do you need?"

"Go on," Celebwen prompted her parents. "Ask him."

"Celebwen, nothing is decided," her father said. He turned to Legolas and inclined his head. "My lord, my daughter wondered . . . that is, my wife and I wondered as well . . . what might we find in Ithilien?"

"Ada!" Celebwen said. "That is not what –"

"Hush, child," her father interrupted. "I will find out what you wish to know, but you must be patient." He turned back to Legolas. "My apologies."

Legolas smiled and waved the apology away. "It is nothing. You wished to know about Ithilien. It is a beautiful, wild land of rolling hills. Its woods are somewhat sparser than here, but receive more sunshine because of that. The soil is fertile, and plants of all varieties grow in abundance. There are many little rivers and brooks, so there is a steady supply of water and fish."

Celebwen's father nodded. "I see. It sounds as though this land has much to offer. But you have neglected one thing. It borders Mordor."

"Mordor was defeated. I witnessed that defeat myself."

"As did the King, at Dagorlad."

"After Dagorlad, the Enemy's Ring was lost," Legolas said evenly. "Now it has been destroyed. There is a difference."

"Will it be enough of a difference?" Celebwen's father asked. "I have already lost one child to the Enemy." He glanced at Celebwen. "I do not wish to lose the other one."

Legolas considered those words carefully. "I cannot promise you that Ithilien will be a land of complete security," he said after a while. "It is beautiful, but it is untamed, and all untamed lands pose some danger. But it is free of its long Shadow. I walked among the trees there, and I knew that they would cherish any Elves who came to dwell with them."

"I see." Celebwen's father smiled. "You have given me much food for thought. I thank you, and I will inform you of my decision soon." He bowed, put his arm around Celebwen's shoulder, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Celebwen's mother cried. Her family glanced at her, puzzled. She laced her fingers together and put on a brave smile. "My son. If we leave, who will tend the tree we planted on Daintáro's grave?"

Galion looked up. "I will do that, if you wish it, Mistress," he said. "My family and I will remain here in Eryn Lasgalen. Glawariel and I do not wish to leave our home, and Gilveril has dedicated herself to rebuilding this forest. There will be people to tend the graves of the fallen. Do not fear."

Celebwen's mother relaxed visibly. "Thank you, Galion," she said, then turned to her husband. "Now we can go and have our debate."

The family bowed and left the room. Legolas and Galion returned to their planning.

One day, at the very beginning of spring, when the snow had begun to turn to rain, Thônion returned from his errand to Lothlórien. He rode first to the delvings, for he bore letters of greeting to Thranduil from Galadriel and Celeborn. "I have seen it for myself," he told the King. "Dol Guldur is cast down indeed, and already new green grass begins to claim the area."

Thranduil laughed out loud. "That is good news indeed," he said. "Thank you for bringing it. Now, go on your other errand, for there are two who wait eagerly for the tidings you bring them."

Thônion found Saelind and Merilin at Beleghir's house preparing dinner with Beleghir and Tinwen. Saelind set down the carrot she was chopping and ran to embrace her husband. "Welcome home, beloved," she murmured in his ear.

Thônion kissed Saelind thoroughly, then turned to the rest of the family. "I spoke with Tinwen's parents," he said. "They were most welcoming when I told them of my errand. I described my wife's brother in glowing terms, and I gave them the letter. This is their reply." He handed Tinwen the parchment that she and Beleghir had given him.

Tinwen turned it over to read the reply that her parents had written on the back of her letter. As she read, her shoulders quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. Alarmed, Beleghir put an arm around her and began to read over her shoulder. Tinwen finished the letter first and let out a delighted laugh. She kissed Beleghir, then rushed to kiss Thônion.

"Good news?" Thônion asked with a smile.

Tinwen wiped a stray tear from her eye. "Very good. They are happy that I have found such a beloved friend here in Eryn Lasgalen. And now that Dol Guldur is no more, they have promised to travel north for the wedding, whenever we choose to have it."

"Oh, Tinwen," Saelind said. "That is wonderful news! I could not ask for a better sister." She reached out and embraced Tinwen, and Thônion pounded Beleghir on the back.

"No!" Merilin cried suddenly. The others turned to look at her, startled. All the color had drained from her face, and she looked as though she was ready to burst into tears. "Uncle Beleghir and Tinwen cannot become betrothed," she said. "If they do, then Grandmother will let herself die. She has only been waiting to see Uncle Beleghir find a bride."

"Merilin," Thônion said softly, and reached out for his daughter.

Merilin twisted away from him. "Do not touch me!" she cried. "I am going to sit with Grandmother." She hurried towards the room where Doronrîn sat.

The others stood frozen, their merriment forgotten. An awkward silence descended upon them. Tinwen glanced from Beleghir to Saelind, a stricken expression on her face.

"I am sorry," she offered quietly. "I did not know. . . Beleghir, your mother. . . if you wish. . . "

"I wish to be betrothed to you," Beleghir said. "And in one year, I wish to marry you."

"But, your mother."

"Whatever her fate, you are not the cause of it," Saelind declared. "She fades because of Ada's death, and you had nothing to do with that."

"Merilin is angry at her grandmother, and she grieves for her as well," Thônion added. "She should not have taken that anger out on you, Tinwen, and she will realize this when she calms down again. Do not take her words to heart."

Beleghir embraced Tinwen, and the family stood where they were for a while, not knowing what to do. Then Saelind shook herself.

"Well," she said, "there is no use standing around. Tinwen's parents have given their permission, and Nana has made her thoughts on the matter perfectly clear. There is no sense in delaying this betrothal." She hurried out of the house and sprinted down the walkway to her own.

Saelind's departure broke the spell, and the other three were able to move again. Beleghir offered Thônion a cup of water after his long journey, and Tinwen spitted two pheasants to roast. Once she had set them over the little hearth, she joined Beleghir and Thônion, listening to Beleghir's descriptions of patrol activity. After a short time, Saelind returned, holding a small wooden box. She set it on the table and opened it to reveal two small silver rings.

"I had them made when Thônion left, and I have been keeping them," she said to Beleghir and Tinwen. "They are my first gift to you."

Tinwen's breath caught. "They are lovely, Saelind. I – we cannot thank you enough."

"What shall we do?" Beleghir asked. "Shall we exchange them now? Perhaps we should call Nana and Merilin."

"There will be no need for that."

Doronrîn stood in the doorway, smiling, her hair neatly brushed and braided once more. She had one arm around Merilin, whose eyes shone with happiness. Thônion smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"This is quite a change," he said. "What has happened?"

"My son has found a bride," Doronrîn said. "That is the first thing, and that is what I wish to see."

Beleghir glanced at Merilin, but her radiant smile did not falter. Quickly, he plucked one of the silver rings from the box and placed it on Tinwen's finger, speaking the ancient blessing and promise. Tinwen took the other ring and did the same, her voice trembling. Beleghir kissed her, and then Doronrîn came and embraced her.

"Welcome, daughter-to-be," she said.

Tinwen blinked away a tear. "Thank you," she whispered. "But, what of you?"

"I have made a decision," Doronrîn said. "Merilin was so distraught that I could not put it off any longer, and we discussed it together. I cannot live in this forest. Every tree, every change of the seasons tears at my heart, because Menellir is not here to see it with me. But neither can I allow myself to fade, for that would be unseemly."

"You would not take ship to Valinor?" Saelind asked.

Doronrîn shook her head. "And leave all of you forever? Pah. I might as well fade. No, I will not travel that far away."

"We are going to Ithilien to live, Grandmother and I," Merilin said joyously. "It is a new land that will heal Elves as much as Elves will heal it." She looked at the expressions of astonishment on the faces of her parents, Beleghir, and Tinwen. "Come with us, Nana, Ada. And Uncle Beleghir and . . . Aunt Tinwen. Will you come to this new land with us?"

Merilin's eyes shone, and Doronrîn's smile brought new life and color to her drawn face. Saelind looked at her mother and her daughter, and then glanced at her husband, her brother, and his betrothed. Her mouth fell open, and she did not know what to say.


	11. The Sky Sprinkled With Diamonds

**11. The Sky Sprinkled With Diamonds**

Inglor, who had an eye for predicting the weather, came to Thranduil one day when the trees were budding and new green shoots were springing from the ground. "The time has come, my Lord," he said. "I think that we will see seven, perhaps ten days of fair weather. If the settlers wish to reach Ithilien before high summer comes, they should start their journey soon."

Thranduil's stomach jolted, but he managed to remain outwardly calm, and even smiled. "Thank you, Inglor," he said, surprised to hear his own voice coming out so evenly. "I will inform Legolas immediately."

"He is at the target range right now," Inglor replied. "I will send him in directly."

Legolas arrived in short order, stripping off his gloves as he entered the Great Hall. "Greetings, Ada," he said. "Inglor said that you wished to speak with me."

Thranduil nodded. "He has decided that the weather will hold for several days. If you are going to begin your journey this year, you must begin it very soon."

For a moment, Legolas stood still, considering information that seemed to have come as a surprise to him. Then a broad smile lit his face. "That is wonderful news, Ada!" he cried. "I will spread the word immediately. We will depart three days from now." He threw his arms around Thranduil, and Thranduil held him tightly, suddenly unable to make his arms release his son.

"Three days," he murmured. "If that is all the time that I have left with you, then let us make the most of it."

The settlers did not have many things to take with them to Ithilien, so they were able to pack quickly and with little fuss. Friends and relatives agreed to care for the tree houses left behind until there should be new families in need of places to live. The major part of the settlers' work involved loading wagons with dried and wrapped meat, fruit, and waybread, plants, building materials, and tools. Legolas placed his sprouting apple seedlings in the wagons, but he was not the only one who had nurtured plants over the winter. Arasiel looked at the array of pots in one wagon and laughed.

"One would hardly think that we are going to a place that already blooms with fruit and flowers," she said. "We will bring with us enough seedlings to make a desert grow green again."

"How would you know?" Neldorín teased her. "You have never seen a desert."

"For that," she answered, "you may finish packing our household. And do not forget Faron's new tin cup. It would hardly do to lose such a beautiful gift, and from a Dwarf, no less."

Neldorín snorted. "If I were to lose that cup, Faron would cry piteously enough to break both our hearts, Dwarf gift or no Dwarf gift. I will pack it with the utmost care."

Nearby, Thônion tied his and Saelind's clothes into bundles that a horse could carry. Merilin did the same with her clothes and Doronrîn's. Beleghir and Tinwen rolled bedding.

"Are you sure that you will not change your mind and come with us?" Saelind asked her brother. "I am sure that the King would allow it, even now."

Beleghir shook his head. "No. Tinwen has already moved far away from one home. I would not tear her away just as she has become accustomed to this one."

Saelind sighed and turned to Tinwen. "It is a shame. I have barely begun to get to know you as a sister."

"We may still write to each other," Tinwen replied. "And there has been so much discussion of establishing regular trade routes between Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien. Surely we will be able to visit each other."

"And we will all return for the wedding," Doronrîn declared. She had regained much of her old spark and vigor since she had made her decision to leave Eryn Lasgalen. Several young couples had approached Doronrîn independently to tell her how glad they were that the settlement's most experienced midwife would be coming to Ithilien with them. Doronrîn's eyes sparkled when she thought of the babies that she would welcome into the new settlement. Both Saelind and Beleghir rejoiced to see their mother returning to life again. All the fuss of packing and the dismay at their impending separation seemed unimportant when they saw Doronrîn's newfound pleasure in life.

Legolas dreamed of the sea that night, and his cries once again brought Thranduil hurrying to his chamber. Although Legolas had not had nearly as many nightmares since he had made the decision to leave Eryn Lasgalen, the ones that he did have were as severe as ever. Thranduil held Legolas and sang to him, but something troubled his heart beyond the immediate sight of his son in distress. "Who will care for you when these dreams come to you on your journey, or in Ithilien?" he asked.

"My dreams are not so terrifying when I travel," Legolas replied sleepily. "The Road has its own dangers that are real enough without the need for nightmares."

"That is a fine way to reassure your worried Ada. And what of Ithilien? It is so close to the Sea, perhaps the dreams will worsen."

"Hmm." Legolas's head lolled against Thranduil's arm. "Perhaps I will ask Aragorn or Gimli to travel down the Anduin with me. I will behold the Sea myself and learn to swim in it. Perhaps then I will not fear it so much."

Thranduil could only nod in vague agreement. On the surface, it was a sensible idea. But it stirred up a deeper fear in Thranduil's heart. If Legolas traveled to the shore, perhaps the sea-longing would strengthen its grip on him, and it would compel him to leave Middle-earth then and there. Thranduil wished that he could share this worry with Legolas, but now was not the proper time. "Do not swim so far that you drown," he whispered.

"No." Legolas's answer was so soft that Thranduil could barely hear him. "I will not leave you without a farewell, Ada. Never."

"I am glad of that. Sleep well, little mouse." Thranduil rose and drew the blankets over Legolas, tucking them around his shoulders against the lingering chill of the night. He paused, aware that he might never again have the chance to tuck his son into bed. But that was only to be expected, he decided. Children grew up; that was the way of things. He smiled, remembering a conversation he had had with Celeborn a year earlier.

"One can never stop being a parent," he murmured to himself. Then he kissed Legolas and returned to his bed.

The next day was the last before the settlers were to begin their journey. They spent their time on last-minute details – gathering fresh greens to be eaten during the first days of the journey, wandering one more time among familiar trees, spending time with friends and family who would stay behind. Legolas spent part of the day with Heledir's mother. They drank tea, and he told her some of his plans for the settlement in Ithilien.

"We will claim the territory between Dagorlad and the Morgul Road," he said. "It is not a large territory, but there are not many of us. We will hunt in the woods and fish in the streams, and we will help the trees to hear the song of life once more."

"I am sure that you will succeed," Heledir's mother said. "We will miss you, all of you, but it is a great deed that you are going to do. It will require sacrifice, but it is all the greater for that."

"Will you come with us and share in our great deed?"

Heledir's mother shook her head. "No," she said, "though I thank you for asking me. But Heledir, and my husband . . . their bodies still rest here, and I am reluctant to leave this place where I can remember them. I will plant fresh trees on their graves, and I will be content."

"Give my greetings to Heledir when you do so," Legolas said with a smile. "I will miss you on my journey."

"And I will miss you. But I will be glad of the opportunity you have to help set things right in this marred world."

Thranduil spent much of the day with Luindil writing out carefully worded letters of greeting to the new Kings of Gondor and Rohan and to Prince Faramir of Ithilien. He took special care with his letter to King Elessar, for he was not certain how much territory Elessar would claim as part of the reunion of Gondor and Arnor. Thranduil's own maps showed that ancient Arnor had stretched west from the Misty Mountains to the Sea, but he wanted to make sure that Elessar shared his understanding. The last thing that the world needed now was a territory dispute between Elves and Men.

He also included a request that Elessar describe the territorial status of Legolas's settlement in his own words. According to Legolas, Elessar was fully prepared to grant such a colony independence from Gondor's rule, and Gimli had reported that Éomer King would do the same for the Dwarvish colony in Aglarond. "Neither Aragorn nor Éomer are fools," Legolas had said. "They are Kings of Men, and they understand the limits of that power. They would not dream of attempting to rule over Elves or Dwarves."

That was fine, as far as it went. Legolas knew Elessar much better than Thranduil did, and Thranduil's brief impression of the Man had been that he was intelligent and had a proper understanding of authority. However, Thranduil had also been acquainted with Isildur, Elessar's ancestor, and he knew that Men were far less constant than Elves. Where a personal promise would have been enough to secure a pact between two Elvish rulers, Thranduil wanted his contracts with Men written down and preserved.

He and Luindil labored long over that particular passage. The phrasing of formal diplomacy had never been among Thranduil's talents, and it was even more vital than normal now, when there would be no chance of communicating information of such importance in person. Thranduil described what he wanted to say in his usual blunt terms, and Luindil reworked his words with great care to set them in elegant, formal language. Finally, Luindil sat back and read the letter to Elessar out loud.

"It is good," Thranduil said when Luindil finished. "The style is courtly, as befits a newly returned King, and yet I can still recognize my points beneath the politics and the fripperies. We will send that to Gondor along with Legolas."

"Excellent," Luindil replied. "And now, I suggest that we stop working. Outside, the sun is beginning to set for the last evening that Legolas will be in this forest. I know that you wish to spend this evening with him."

Thranduil nodded. "I do. I asked Galion to prepare a special dinner this evening to celebrate our farewell. Will you join us at table tonight? I think it would mean a great deal to Legolas if you were there as well."

A slow smile spread over Luindil's face. "I am honored, King Thranduil," he said softly. "Of course, I will dine with you tonight, if you wish it."

"Good. Then let us go together and collect the child."

Luindil laughed at that. "He is no longer a child, King Thranduil. He leaves this forest fully grown, one of the Nine Walkers, and soon to be a Lord in his own right."

"That is true," Thranduil said. "And that is what the rest of the world will see when they look upon him. But here, deep in my heart, he will always be the little child whose hands I held as he learned to toddle in the Great Hall."

The woods were unusually quiet that night. No Elves sang or made merry in the trees, for most of them had gone to bed early. The settlers would leave before dawn, and most of the remaining Elves would also wake then to see them off.

They assembled at the edge of the forest in the grey twilight just before dawn. The sleepy horses stamped and blew. Parents and children bade each other farewell, and grandparents cuddled babies for the last time. Celebwen exchanged small wooden charms with her friends, tokens of friendship and farewell. Saelind and Beleghir embraced tightly, and then Doronrîn kissed her son farewell. "Do not worry about me," she said. "I have made my choice, and I have chosen the new life that awaits me in Ithilien. I look forward to my future with an open heart. You and Tinwen should do the same."

Beleghir smiled through his tears. "Yes, Nana."

At the edge of the gathering, Legolas stood with his father and Luindil. Luindil embraced him first. "Farewell, little one," he said. "I will miss you."

"What will you do with yourself, now that you will not need to correct my behavior?" Legolas asked mischievously.

"I will correct your father's, of course," Luindil answered, and both Thranduil and Legolas laughed. Then Thranduil took Legolas into his arms and held him for a long time.

"You will make the House of Oropher proud," Thranduil said, in a suspiciously husky voice. "Ithilien will bloom again and become the fairest garden in the world under your stewardship. But do not forget that you will always have a home here. I will welcome you with joy whenever you wish to return."

"You do not seem so troubled as the last time we parted, Ada," Legolas said. "But this time, I am moving away permanently."

"But you are doing so under very different circumstances," Thranduil pointed out. "The last time we parted, it was under a cloud of pain and shadow. Now, you are leaving with joy and hope in your heart, and that makes all the difference in the world."

"I will miss you, Ada."

"You will have many wonderful new adventures in the south. One day, I look forward to sitting with you on the shores of Aman and hearing you tell me all about them."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at that remark. "On the shores of Aman? You cannot be thinking of leaving Middle-earth, Ada."

Thranduil laughed. "Not for many years, perhaps centuries. But eventually, I think I will go. Perhaps I will sail with you, or perhaps I will linger behind for a while. I do not know. But whatever I choose, it will not be for a long time."

"Good," Legolas said. "I would not wish to return to Eryn Lasgalen for a visit and find that you had left."

"That will not happen," Thranduil assured him. "But the sun is rising. If anyone is leaving, it should be you."

"Farewell, Ada."

"Farewell, my little mouse."

With that, Legolas turned and mounted his horse. The other settlers, seeing this, said their last farewells and prepared to depart. Thranduil climbed on a box and surveyed the assembled crowd.

"Go with words of peace and blessing upon you," he told them. "May your road be straight and safe, and may it lead you in the end to the fulfillment of your hearts' desires. As much as you intend to heal the land to which you travel, do not forget to allow it to heal you as well. Every one of you seeks something in that new land that you lack here. Do not be afraid to find what you seek, and accept the joy from it. Go now in peace, and know that you will always be welcome whenever you should choose to return."

The settlers, who numbered a third of the Wood-elves' total numbers, cheered. Legolas looked back, checking one last time to ensure that everyone was ready. Then, he urged his horse forward, and the company moved out. The remaining Elves stood by the road and watched them go, and they remained standing for a long time, until the last of the settlers had vanished from sight.

After a few moments, Thranduil turned and looked for Luindil and Inglor. "Let us return to the delvings," he said. "We must begin to discuss how we will rotate the patrols so that all may have time to plant their spring gardens." So the Elves dispersed and returned to the settlement.

The caravan of settlers from Eryn Lasgalen marched steadily forward. A stiff breeze blew, but the day was clear and sunny. They sang as they went, or chattered amongst themselves in small groups. By nightfall, they had reached the southern tip of the Long Lake, and they camped there for the night, fishing and gathering greens from the lakeshore so as to stretch their supply of traveling food.

They set out again early in the morning, traveling south along the Celduin and taking advantage of the supply of fresh-running water. Towards evening, they skirted the base of the Mountains of Mirkwood and camped beneath the trees. The third day of travel brought them out of the forest again. They followed its edge to guide them south, as they would do for many days after that.

Towards noon of the third day, the Elvish settlers noticed a cloud of dust on the horizon. Legolas, traveling at the front of the caravan, increased their speed, and they soon caught up to another group of travelers. These were Dwarves from Erebor, riding on ponies. Gimli himself led their company.

Neldorín and Arasiel had been riding with Legolas, switching Faron back and forth between their horses. At the moment, Faron was riding with Arasiel. When he saw the Dwarves, he began to twist and squirm in his mother's arms. "Dwarves!" he cried. "Look, Nana, Dwarves! Look, Ada!"

"Yes, little one," Arasiel said. "They are Dwarves, and they are traveling south to live just as we are doing."

Gesturing for the others to stay behind, Legolas galloped ahead to the head of the Dwarves' column. "Hi, Gimli!" he called.

Gimli turned, and then reined his pony to a halt. The rest of the Dwarves stopped as well and stared as the Elves rode up beside them. Legolas looked back and signaled to Neldorín and Arasiel, and they advanced to his side.

"Well met, my friend!" Gimli was saying. "So the time has come for both of us to keep our promises to Aragorn."

"Indeed it has," Legolas replied. "We will be traveling the same road for many days. Would your folk object if we kept our companies in sight?"

"I do not think so," Gimli said. "These are Dwarves who have agreed to live inside a realm of Men. They are quite open to new experiences. May I assume the same about your folk?"

Legolas smiled. "To some extent. I do not propose that we mingle the companies too soon, unless all are willing."

"Agreed."

Faron could keep still no longer. He leaned over as far as Arasiel's grip on his body would allow and pointed. "Gimli!" he cried happily.

Gimli's face split in a broad grin. "Well, well, well! Who do we have here? If it is not my little friend Faron, son of Neldorín!" He maneuvered his pony close to Arasiel's horse so that Faron could lean down and rub noses with him. "Oof!" he cried, as Faron's hands inevitably found their way into his beard.

Arasiel disentangled her son from the Dwarf and nodded politely to Gimli, who removed his hood grandly. Neldorín smiled his approval of this courtesy to his lady and child.

The Elves and the Dwarves rode side by side for the rest of the day, and made camp near each other that evening. That night, although they were weary from much traveling, few of the Elves could sleep. Instead, they stood together in the open grassland and looked up into the sky, entranced by the unbroken view of the stars.

"It is a good sign for our journey," Legolas told Gimli. "Elbereth herself lights our way."

"I had always thought that it was Aulë, sprinkling diamonds to guide the Dwarves along the road to their final destination," Gimli shot back.

Legolas grinned. "Perhaps Elves may follow a diamond path as well, Gimli Elf-friend."

"Why not? A new Age is dawning, and many strange things will come to pass in these latter days."

So they sat together under the stars and spoke for a long time, sharing their dreams of the future. As always, they would press forward again with the dawn, allowing its light to lead them forward to the lands that awaited them.

END

**Afterword**

Many thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story. For me, it was primarily a gap-filler, a way to explore how and why the Elves I've placed in Ithilien after the War got there. Along the way, many more issues crept in.

I think that the idea to have Legolas dance in the Masque came from a comment that JastaElf left on one of my earlier stories. It rattled around in my brain for a while and finally came out here. So, thank you to Jasta for that wonderful thought. For other aspects of the story, I drew on some of my own experiences moving a thousand miles away from home after graduating from college. It was a thrilling experience, but not without its scary moments.

So, thanks for coming along on what I used to think of as the "Elves with PTSD story." I'll see you later!


End file.
